Pick It All Up and Start Again
by AnthroQueen
Summary: There are only so many times you can restart before that is no longer an option; before the pieces of your broken lives are too scattered, too unrecognizable. Whoever A is now has taken it to the next level; they're out for blood. And sooner or later, that blood is going to spill.
1. One

**Hi guys! So I'm kind of nervous to post this because I don't know what you'll think. I got a lot of positive feedback on my last story, but let me be the first to say- this new one is _completely_ different. As I'd said, I really enjoy writing drama far more than fluff and though there will be some happy moments here and there, this is going to be mainly my version of what happened after the fallout of season four's finale. Cool? Cool.**

**So if you guys saw the notes and outline I wrote for this story, you would think I was insane. I basically just wrote down every mystery that has yet to be solved (after I tried to timeline the sequence of events, which was next to impossible) and let me just say it took up over two pages on Word. Yeah. Not gonna answer all of them. But I'm going to do everything I can to weave the important ones into my story. Hopefully you'll enjoy. I don't know. Let me know?**** Thanks, you're fabulous!  
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**Oh by the way, the story's title comes from the song "Medicine" by Daughter (are you surprised it isn't Fun.?). Beautiful song- I feel like it's a good anthem for season five. Okay I'll stop rambling. Enjoy, maybe?**

* * *

One

She doesn't sleep much these days and she thought it would change when she finally kicked that addiction, when she buried the amphetamines in Pandora's box along with rehab and her Radley stay, but it hadn't. She's a worrier and she's always been a worrier; try as her father demanded, Spencer Hastings always found it impossible to hide her true feelings when she was alone. At night, there is nothing else to do but dwell upon but the creeping sensation of failure, of danger and of destruction. And so, she does and she doesn't sleep; a few years ago, what kept her up at night was the anxiety over test grades, sparring with Melissa and gaining her parents' approval. Last year, it had been –A; a few weeks ago, it had been the crippling fear that she somehow had something to do with the death of an innocent girl. But now, it's none of those things. Now, it's Alison DiLaurentis.

For some reason, finding out Alison had in fact been alive this entire time did not shock Spencer as much as she had expected. The other girls, save for Hanna, who had suspected this for years, were still pinching themselves, as if they imagined Alison would once again disappear before their very eyes. With the all tricks and stunts she'd pulled, it wouldn't surprise Spencer if she did. It's just like her to have an entire town dedicated to finding her, an entire town gathered in the mourning of her, just to pull the wool over everyone's eyes at the last second. Intentional or not, Spencer's sure Alison is loving this; she had always loved and craved the spotlight, the attention. She's not sure Alison would have wanted it in this manner, but then again, she's still not sure whether or not Alison is on their side. What does shock Spencer, however, is that this ever-elusive anonymous sociopath wants Alison dead. There have been some days when Spencer wished she had never met Alison DiLaurentis, and there are more bad days than good, but never would she wish death upon anyone. Never would she base her happiness on another's downfall.

It's snowing and that's what's caught Spencer's attention in that spotty, in between time, too late to be considered night, too early to be considered morning. She's standing by the sole window of the bedroom, clad only in an oversized t-shirt of his, and watching as the majestic flakes of white flit and flutter about, swirl through the air and land on the ground below. The streetlights are casting an ethereal glow on the town before her and if Spencer didn't know any better, she would think that Rosewood was just any other town; parks and churches, movie theaters and schools, homes and the gracious people living within them. Of course, it's not that way at all; she remembers fondly an early conversation with Toby in which they'd discussed that very same thing. "_It's not a monster_," She had told him in the naïve way a child would and she supposes she was still a child, back then. But Toby had gone through more than she could've ever dreamed of and when he responded, "_It's got monsters in it. You know that, and so do I_," she agreed. She did know and she would continuously be reminded of that very fact every single day.

The days following their trip to New York City with Alison had been eventful to say the very least. Jessica DiLaurentis was found dead in her backyard and Spencer wondered how many times the DiLaurentis house would become the scene of a crime before the town decided to tear it down for good, to amputate an irreparable limb in order to save the body. Alison's father had returned to town to claim guardianship of his newly returned daughter and the two hadn't been seen or heard from since. Spencer's parents had put her on lockdown the moment she stepped in the door, her trustworthiness completely shot. They'd given her the third degree, read her rights and sent her to her room like a prisoner, which, because of her transgressions, she couldn't really blame them; that's what she was. A prisoner, trapped by her decisions, bound to those she loved and devoted to doing anything she possibly could to end all the tormenting, even if she lost herself in the process. It might sound daunting, it might turn others away, but not Spencer; after all, she'd already lost herself, once. And then, she came back.

Melissa had informed Spencer earlier in the day that Toby's flight was getting in around six and miraculously, her parents had allowed her to meet him at the airport. They hadn't even permitted her to see her friends, but somehow they gave Toby the green light; Spencer's not sure what changed their minds about him, but she won't complain. She thinks it must be his part in her intervention weeks prior; God, she'd been awful to him. She'd been awful to _everyone_. She intended to make everything right between the two of them but they got a bit distracted once they saw one another. Spencer's not one for public displays of affection, but she couldn't help herself; the moment he was close enough, she launched herself into his arms and the two made out like the teenagers they are instead of the adults they feel like. Needless to say, between the jetlag and the fervent lovemaking, Toby had passed out pretty quickly. Unfortunately for Spencer, she hadn't done the same.

"Spence?"

Or so she thought. She should've known he would've eventually realized she'd left him. She glances over and meets his concerned gaze, because even though he's dead tired, her wellbeing is the first thing he concentrates on. She smiles slowly and even though she's barely clothed, even though it's April and it shouldn't be below freezing, even though she's watching snow fall, her body fills with a warmth that only he can provide. His voice is groggier than she'd ever heard it; it's raw and low and, if she's admitting it, absolutely seductive. She doesn't think he's had a haircut in months, but she'd enjoyed tangling her fingers in the longer locks and the five o'clock shadow he's sporting had tickled and scratched her skin all over, but she has to say, it's a look she can certainly get used to.

"Hey," She says quietly. "Why aren't you asleep?"

He gives her a look, as if she's stolen the words from his mouth. "I could ask you the same question."

Spencer nods towards the window, saying, "It's snowing. Isn't that crazy? So much for spring."

"Rosewood's temperamental like that," Toby says, leaning on one elbow to outstretch a hand towards her. "Come on, you. Bed."

She takes his hand and crawls in beside him. He's so warm, so inviting, but there's too much on her mind for it to surrender to sleep. They hadn't talked much, earlier; they'd been a bit preoccupied and Spencer had felt that if they didn't meld their bodies into one, she would spontaneously combust. Now, however, she knows there's so much she wants to tell him, so much she _can't_ tell him, but so much she will tell him all the same. They'd made a promise- no more secrets, not when it had nearly broken both of them last time. Lying to him absolutely destroys her, anyway; it always had. There's something about the sincerity of Toby's character that made Spencer feel like the worst person in the world every time she lied to his face. The fact that he accepts her anyway, that he knows there are things that will always remain obscure between them, renders her grateful and guilty and ashamed all in one.

"You look so much better," Toby tells her, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "I didn't get a chance to tell you before, but you do."

"Well, I'm glad," She replies. "Someone told me I looked like crap, before, so…"

He chuckles. "You know I didn't mean that in malice."

"I know," She smiles. "I do feel better, so I guess all of that suffering was worth it."

She isn't saying it as a personal dig to him; if anything, it's her fault she relapsed, anyway. But that doesn't stop Toby from internalizing her pain and making it his own. She watches the frown form on his face and places a hand against his cheek to try and stop it. "Don't."

"I shouldn't have left," Toby laments. "I knew you were going through a rough time and I wanted to be there for you. It's just… Your parents said-"

"I'm serious. Don't," Spencer shakes her head. "It would've been nice to have you there, but part of me is glad you weren't. I was _awful_, Toby, and I would've done terrible things. I would've ruined us."

"I don't think that's true," Toby disagrees. "I did get your message, by the way. Why would you ever think you're a horrible person?"

She's quiet for a moment because, honestly, with everything she'd been dealing with the past few weeks, she'd completely forgotten about that terse phone call. "I-I don't know."

He eyes her and knows there's more. "Yes you do. You always know. What happened that made you think like that?"

Spencer sits up against the headboard; she can't have this conversation casually lying down. When he mirrors her actions, she reaches out and clutches both of his hands in hers, as if anchoring him to the spot, as if the information she's about to share will cause him to flee. "There's something I have to tell you, but before I do, there's something else I have to tell you."

"Okay," Toby nods, giving her hands a bit of a squeeze. "Go ahead."

"It's something I've known for weeks, since that magic show at Ravenswood, and we promised not to tell anyone," Spencer prefaces. "There is every chance that telling you now is only going to get you into trouble and that's why I've been keeping it from you so long. Please… Please don't hate me for what I'm about to say."

"Spencer, that's impossible," Toby tells her. "There is nothing you could do that would make me hate you."

"Don't be so sure of that," Spencer frowns. "This is big. Huge. And I've kept it from you for weeks."

"So you've said," He states. "You can tell me anything and you can tell me whenever you're ready. You know that."

She does and it's what's making this even harder. She sighs and says, "Alison is alive."

He doesn't say anything for a while and Spencer fears the worst. But when he does, it isn't what she's expecting. "Well I understand why you kept that from me."

Her eyes snap to his face and she manages to utter, "You do?"

"Yeah," Toby says quietly. "If she's alive… She's probably not safe. The less people that know, the better, right?"

"Right. Right, yeah," Spencer's body fills with relief and suddenly, love for him overwhelms her to the point where she cannot contain herself. She erupts into a series of conjoined sentences, speaking faster than she has in months in an effort to get everything out. "Oh god, she's alive, Toby, she's really alive. We've all seen her. She wants to come home, but it's still not safe because –A is still after her, -A still wants her dead, and we don't know who it is. We still don't. We thought maybe we knew, we thought it was Ezra, but we were wrong, so wrong, and then we went to Philadelphia to meet up with her, but Noel Kahn was there instead and I don't know why Ali ever thought she could trust him, of all people. He brought us to her, in New York, and she told us everything about that night, who she met with, how someone hit her, how Grunwald pulled her out of the grave her own mother dug and how Mona took care of her, even though she was already –A. And she was the one who pushed Ian off the bell tower, Toby, she saved my life! But there was someone there, listening to us, and it was –A and he or she or whoever had a gun and they almost got us, but Ezra was there and I still don't know how but he was shot instead and –A got away _again_ and Ali's here, in Rosewood, somewhere, but she doesn't want anyone to know because it's not safe. And I don't know what to do to help her. I don't… I don't know if I want to."

Toby lets her ramble, lets her get it all out of her system, before asking, "You thought Ezra was –A? Your English teacher?"

Spencer pauses and laughs a bit. "Mrs. DiLaurentis, too."

"You guys are getting a little paranoid, huh?" Toby teases and Spencer sighs, thoroughly pleased to have gotten that burden off of her chest.

"It could be anyone, Toby," She tells him then. "But she doesn't trust us. She doesn't trust me and… I don't think I blame her."

"Why?" He wonders. "What's the second part in all of this?"

Spencer gently removes her hands from his, suddenly abashed as she remembers even her parents had wondered if she were capable of murder. "I'm sure my parents told you that this wasn't the first time I'd had issues with amphetamines."

He nods slowly. "They mentioned it was a relapse."

"Yeah. The first time was that summer, the one where Ali disappeared," Spencer fills in and glances away from him, unable to meet his eyes. "They caused really violent outbursts, but I'd black out and I wouldn't remember. I knew a long time ago that my parents hired a PI to follow Melissa after Ali went missing, but I found out recently that he wasn't employed to track Melissa. He, um… He followed me."

A burgeoning pit of dread forms in Toby's stomach as he asks, "What are you saying?"

"Exactly what you're thinking," Spencer fills in. "My parents thought that… They thought that I-"

"No," Toby shakes his head. "No way. How could they _possibly_ think that?"

"They'd seen me do terrible things and Mrs. DiLaurentis was backing them up," Spencer continues, her voice wavering. "And the worst part was, I couldn't defend myself because I _couldn't remember_. All I knew was what they were telling me; that I was violent, that I was a monster, that I was unrecognizable. They made me believe that I was… That I…"

"You don't have to say it," Toby assures her, reaching across the distance between them to pull her into his arms, even as she protests. "You don't, because it isn't true and there is no way in a million years that you could've ever hurt _anyone_."

"Ali's alive," Spencer repeats. "But someone else, someone's in her grave. Someone's in her place. And I don't know who it is, but _someone_ killed her and that someone easily could've been me."

"Stop that. I'm serious. Stop that right now," He pulls back none too gently to look her dead in the eye. "You didn't hurt _anyone_. You never could and anyone who thinks otherwise obviously doesn't see you like I do."

"That's just the thing," She points out. "You once told me that you know me, that you know who I am, but I don't know if you do. I want to be that person you think you know, but I'm not, Toby. I'm just not."

She's not sure what's gotten into her; she's never been this candid with him and she can tell it's taken him by unpleasant surprise. There's something about the intimacy of the moment, about these post-midnight whispered confessions, that's making it easier for her to empty her muddled brain and even more damaged heart right before him. She wonders if this is what an open, honest relationship looks like; she's never had one before. She's lied to just about everyone she's ever interacted with, but lying to Toby is different. Lying to Toby feels like a sunburn; painful at first, but the aftermath hurts a lot more. But this, this is something infinitely new to her. She's been told year after year to suppress her feelings and now that she's finally been given an out, now that Toby has finally given her an out, the dam has broken and the water is flowing freely and her feelings and thoughts, every single one, are laid out before them.

"Listen to me," Toby tells her sharply. "I don't know who's been messing with you and making you feel this way about yourself, but you let me know as soon as possible so I can give this person a swift kick in the teeth."

She smiles a bit as he goes on. "When we first became friends, before all of the –A stuff got really bad, you were intelligent and brave and loyal and fiercely competitive. You had a knack for solving even the toughest of puzzles and you had a resilience to you that I just could not match. No matter how many times you were knocked down, you got right back up again and gave it another go. Because you're strong; you're tough. You were a force to be reckoned with, in more ways than one."

"And that girl I just described, Spence? She's right here, in my shirt, in my bed," Toby says and her smile grows a bit wider. "You're still that person; you always have been. Don't tell me I don't know who you are; I know you, Spencer. I recognize those same qualities you showed on my porch that afternoon because you still display them every single day. Don't let other people tell you who you are; _you_ know who you are, and so do I."

He kisses her, sliding back down to a lying position and tugging her with him. She relents when he pulls away. "Now can we please, for the love of God, put this to rest and go to sleep?"

Spencer chuckles a bit and snuggles closer to him. "Sure."

She settles in, her ear pressed gently to the rhythmic beating of his heart, and whispers, "I missed you."

He holds her tighter and presses a kiss to her crown. "I missed _you_."

He might have told her he loved her after that; Spencer's not entirely sure. She doesn't sleep much these days, but the moment she's in his arms, the final puzzle piece slides into place. _You're safe now_, her mind reminds her. _You're home_. The worrying ceases for the night and instead is replaced by synchronized breathing, even heartbeats and blissful dreams of one another's company. She doesn't sleep much these days, but maybe it's because she hadn't been sleeping next to him.

* * *

A scintillating aroma of cinnamon is what finally rouses Spencer from a much-needed sleep and she must have been thoroughly exhausted, because she hadn't even noticed that Toby had disentangled himself from her, let alone left the bedroom completely. She rolls over, scrubs a hand over her eyes and balks at the sight of the clock on his bedside table- 10:27. She bolts upright as though someone has lit a fire beneath her; Spencer Hastings does _not_ sleep in. If she can sleep past seven, it's a victory. She pushes back the comforter and doesn't even bother to calm her wild mane of hair, her growling, grumbling stomach leading her towards the heavenly scent emanating from the kitchen. When she gets there, Toby's at the stove and the table's set for two and she has to take a mental step back and remind herself that she can't get used to this even if she wants to.

"Morning," He greets as he turns, scrambled eggs hot in the pan before him. "There's cinnamon rolls, but before you make fun of me, they're nothing fancy, just the kind you get from the can. I made eggs and toast, too, if you'd rather have that. Plus there's juice and, more importantly, coffee."

"That sounds amazing," She says, sinking into the chair before the plate he's designated for her. "I can't believe you let me sleep that long."

"You needed it," Toby insists. "It's Saturday. It's not like you're missing anything."

He loads her plate with all of the available options and is halfway through pouring her a cup of coffee when she asks, "Are you trying to make me gain a hundred pounds?"

He laughs. "You said the pills made you lose your appetite and since you stopped taking them, I thought maybe it came back."

"It did," She agrees. "But it didn't come back with the ferocity of a bull."

Grinning, he hands her the steaming mug and she sips from it gratefully as he sits before her. "In all seriousness, though, thank you for this; for everything. For breakfast, for letting me stay here, for listening to me ramble last night…"

"Of course," He puts in. "Listening to you ramble is in my job description and you know you're always welcome here."

Her phone buzzes as they're halfway through breakfast and Spencer dreads answering it. –A had been surprisingly quiet since their scuffle on the roof a few weeks back and Spencer had deluded herself into thinking perhaps there wouldn't be anymore texts. Last night had been perfect in every way she'd hoped it would be and the last thing she wants to do is disrupt the momentary peace a night absent of torment had brought her. Toby catches her uneasy look and shakes his head, tells her to forget it, but Spencer can't seem to let it go. She finishes breakfast distractedly as Toby tidies up around her. She should really check her phone; it could be time-sensitive information. But, on the other hand, ignorance is bliss…

Toby then pulls her from her reverie. "I'm going to take a shower. Your father's not planning on dropping by, is he?"

"No, why?" Spencer asks amusedly.

"Because I'm going to ask you to join me," He informs her. "And I don't think he approved of that, last time."

She laughs. "I don't know what was worse- you, in a towel, asking me to shower with you in front of him or me, in your underwear, in front of him."

"That's not even a question," Toby shakes his head. "Me in a towel, by a landslide. He's your father; I'm going to assume he's seen you in underwear before."

"Yeah, my own," Spencer corrects. "Never a boyfriend's, because that implies that we…"

"Well, we did," Toby finishes. "And I could've lived without your father knowing that."

She grins. "You and me both."

He flashes her a grin too and turns for the bathroom. In a moment, she can hear the rush of water and her phone goes off again. Toby calls, "Are you coming?"

Spencer glances at her phone, the vibrating body, the illuminated screen, and decides against it. She bounds after him and replies, "Yeah. I'm coming."

It'll still be there when she gets back, she figures. Instead, she locks the front door; she doubts her father will come to collect her after what he walked in on last time, but it doesn't hurt to be safe. Steam is already rolling from the bathroom by the time she gets there; he certainly had gotten the hot water working after all. She slips out of her clothing, steps beneath the warm waterfall beside him and allows herself another moment of bliss. Here, in the narrow shower stall, under the pounding water, in the cage of his arms, -A can't touch her. She'll stay here forever; she'll risk drowning here, with him, if it means that she'll never get another menacing text.

When they've finished and she's refreshed, she does eventually check the messages on her phone. She has a missed call from her mother and three unanswered texts from Hanna, but nothing from –A. Toby's still towel-drying his hair when he speculates, "Maybe –A forgot about you."

"One can only dream," Spencer drones and her phone goes off again. She groans and answers, "God, Hanna, what?"

"_Where are you? We were supposed to meet at my house an hour ago!_"

"I just got your messages," Spencer provides and ignores Toby's chuckling in the background. Will there ever be a day when she doesn't lie to everyone she knows? "I'm leaving now. I'll be there soon."

They exchange a few more words before hanging up and Spencer laments, "I have to go."

"So I've heard," Toby says, bending to part ways with a kiss. "I'll call you later."

"Okay," She replies and halfway out the door, she turns back to say, "And be careful, okay? –A's likely not going to be pleased that I told you what I did, so just… Keep an eye open?"

"I will," He promises. "You do the same."

She nods hesitantly and then she's gone. She wishes it were that easy, just keeping an eye open for anything out of the blue. She wishes she could take her own advice. But it's much more complicated, now. When Mona was –A, she let the girls know what was coming so when disaster struck, they had no one to blame but themselves. But the thing about this –A, whomever it is now, is that they truly are out for blood. They must sense the end is near as much as the girls do and they're not going down without bringing any and everyone else with them. Spencer shakes her head clear of these thoughts as she lets herself into Hanna's kitchen and is nearly accosted by the impatient and jittery other three.

"Where the hell have you been?" Hanna exclaims. "We've been trying to reach you all morning!"

"I was with Toby, okay?" Spencer defends. "We were just trying to get some alone time."

"Wait, he's back from London?" Emily probes. "When did he get back?"

"Last night," Spencer answers easily. "We just wanted to spend some time together."

"Did he say why he went there in the first place?" Aria wonders. "I mean, getting Melissa back was nice, but there had to have been another reason, right?"

Spencer shrugs but before she can reply, Hanna bellows, "No, can we please focus? What does this mean?"

Only then does Spencer notice the hourglass on her kitchen counter. She asks, "Where did you get that?"

"Special delivery this morning," Hanna replies. "Do you think it's a countdown? Do you think –A knows where Ali is?"

"No one knows where Ali is," Emily says. "Not even me. _Us_."

Aria puts in, "Yeah, but I wouldn't put it past –A to find out."

Spencer turns the hourglass in her direction to read the inscription on the side. "_The last to go will see the first three go before her. Time's running out. Kisses, -A_."

"Do you see why I've been freaking out?" Hanna cries, twisting her hair around a finger nervously. "What do we do? Should we reach out to her again?"

"Yeah, because that worked out so well for us last time," Aria deadpans. "We might have gotten the answers we wanted, but Ezra paid the price. And we still don't know everything!"

The girls are silent a moment in contemplation. No one wants to ask, but Emily, ever the polite one, implores, "Is Ezra alright?"

"I guess," Aria shrugs. "I haven't spoken to him since he left the hospital. He thinks we can work through it, but… Getting shot doesn't excuse what he did."

The others nod in agreement and are glad she feels this way, because now they don't have to waste time convincing her Ezra's still an enemy. Finally, after a beat, Spencer says, "_The Wizard of Oz_."

Hanna balks, "What?"

"_The last to go will see the first three go before her_," Spencer repeats. "That's from _The Wizard of Oz_. I knew I'd heard that before."

"Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain," Emily adds. "-A is banking on us putting all of our attention on helping Ali and when we do…"

"We'll lead –A right to her," Spencer finishes. "She'll strike when we least expect it."

"_The last to go will see the first three go before her_," Aria reiterates. "Is –A talking about killing people? Killing… us?"

"Okay, I'm officially freaked out," Hanna shudders and turns away from the hourglass just as her doorbell rings throughout the house.

She makes no move to answer it and when the others urge her to, she says, "No way! What if it's –A coming to finish us off?"

"Come on," Emily links her arm through her friend's. "It's four against one. –A can't get us all."

"That's a reassuring motto," Spencer replies, voice dripping with sarcasm, as the four head to the front door.

Emily pushes Hanna forward a little and the blonde takes careful, cautious steps towards the door. The other three wait with baited breath behind her and long for a time when they weren't afraid of their own shadows, afraid to answer a phone, afraid to get the front door. Hanna glances back at her friends, worry etched in her brow and they send back reassuring, albeit slightly terrified looks of encouragement. Her hand closes around the door handle and she takes a deep breath before swinging the door open and jumping in response to the figure on her front porch. Her blue eyes widen in shock and she gasps, her heart racing.

For everyone she might have expected, this figure before her had not been on the list.


	2. Two

**Hi! I'm so sorry this took me a week to get out. It was already written and sitting here in my document manager, but I haven't gotten a chance to update. I kind of, sort of graduated college this past weekend and became a real-life adult? I don't know. Then I went back to work with all the kiddies, whom I missed dearly, but it's always a lot of work wrangling them. I've been swamped, needless to say. But worry no more- I'm back. Update Fridays, that's what we'll call them. ;)**

**SO. I've got some clarifications. First thing I want to say- some chapters will be Spoby-er than others. This is not one of them, sorry. I want to really get into the meat of this world, so I'll be bringing everyone into this story much, much more than I did in my last story. Second- I know that the PLL writers want to redeem Ezra, but I will not be doing that. I don't think he deserves it and I am not an Ezria fan anymore, I'm sorry. Haven't been since the Malcolm/Maggie disaster of season 3. Nah. Not for me. And third- I know there are spoilers, cast pics, theories and other things going around about season 5, but none of that is going to come into play here. I don't like spoilers; I like to be surprised. :P**

**ALSO. Thank you so incredibly much for your amazing reviews. I seriously can't deal with how spectacular you are. Your words are what keeps me going. I know everyone says that and it's pretty cliche, but it's true. If I didn't have your words of encouragement, this piece would've hit that silver trash can in my screen weeks ago. OKAY. Enough rambling. Onward, Christian soldiers! (That's an old English hymn, I didn't mean to get Biblical on you...)**

* * *

Two

The shock wears off almost as instantly as it had appeared and is instead replaced by irritation. Hanna crosses her arms over her chest, making no move to welcome her visitor. "What are you doing here?"

The girls have relaxed behind her, sensing Hanna's lack of fear, but have not managed to see who's before their friend. The front door is opened just a crack and they can't see around the blonde's frame. But the moment they hear the unmistakable voice, they understand Hanna's hesitation. "Can we talk?"

"I don't think we have anything to talk about anymore," Hanna replies as the others sneak around her and head for the stairs. As they do, they catch a glimpse of the shaggy-haired, solemn-looking boy of Hanna's previous affections and wonder what it is that could have possibly brought him back.

"Please, Hanna," Caleb entreats. "Just give me a minute."

Spencer, Emily and Aria are huddled on the stairs, just above the landing, as Hanna allows Caleb to cross the threshold into her home. Emily asks, "Why are we doing this? We should give her some privacy."

"Privacy? Em, we still don't know what happened between them to make them break up in the first place," Aria counters. "She could kill him. She might need moral support."

"I just feel like if she knew we were eavesdropping she wouldn't be very happy," Emily frowns. "Whatever happened between them had to have been serious."

"She said he met someone else," Spencer puts in. "My guess is he's realized he's wrong and now wants a second chance."

"Do you think she'll give him one?" Emily probes. "I mean, she was really heartbroken."

"She's already given him a second chance," Aria points out. "Remember when he was working for Jenna? Caleb's really testing his limits."

"And you two are testing my patience," Spencer hisses. "I can't hear anything they're saying. _Be quiet!_"

"So you're back," Hanna deadpans. "To what do I owe this honor?"

"Hanna, don't be like that," Caleb frowns. "I came back because Ravenswood isn't what I thought it was. It's not where I belong."

"Well I could've told you that if you'd bothered to ask me," She replies, indignant. "And you know what? No. I get to be however I want to be, Caleb. You're the one that left, not me."

"I know," He nods. "I'm not trying to justify anything that I did. I came back to apologize. You and I… What we had was amazing."

Hanna purses her lips. "And you gave that up. You threw it away."

Caleb sighs. "Yeah. I did."

Silence befalls them and when it becomes too insufferable, Hanna shrugs and says, "I don't know what you expected. I don't know what you want me to say, but we can't go back, Caleb."

"I know," He agrees. "I just wanted you to know that I'm back and… I'm sorry. And I hope that one day, you can find it in your heart to forgive me and maybe… Maybe we can start over."

He turns to go and that's when Hanna's anger boils over. "Start over? _Start over?_ What would make you think that I want to start over? Caleb, I _loved_ you, and you just… You just left! You told me things were complicated as if that was a good enough explanation! After everything we'd been through, I deserved better than that from you and you didn't… you gave me _nothing_!"

"I'm sorry," Caleb pleads brokenly. "I'm so sorry."

"After everything," Hanna shakes her head, blinking away the threatening onslaught of tears. "I just thought I meant more than that to you. I thought I was important."

"You do; you are," Caleb insists. "Hanna… I love you."

"Don't," She refutes. "Please just go. Can you go, please?"

He hesitates but nods and turns towards the door, slipping behind it like a punished puppy, tail between his legs. There's silence in the foyer for a moment before the girls slink down the stairs warily, sure Hanna knows they'd heard the entire exchange. If she's angry with them for it, however, she doesn't let them know; instead, she wipes at her eyes, tells them to forget it and doesn't accept the hug each of them offer her. Hanna insists she's all right and the four eye her cagily the rest of the afternoon. They decide there's not much else they can do about the hourglass today; Spencer promises to pester and prod any information that she can out of her parents concerning Alison's whereabouts when the girls part ways for the day.

She, of course, is met with a brick wall of resistance.

Peter snorts. "If I knew where Alison was, do you think I would share it with you?"

"Dad, it's important," Spencer insists. "We're not trying to plan an elaborate heist or skip town with her or anything. We just… We want to make sure she's okay."

"That's not as urgent as you made it sound," Peter retorts. "She's with her father; I'm sure she's fine. Just let it alone, Spencer. Don't make everything your problem."

As he retreats to his study, Veronica comes bustling in with a bursting briefcase and a cell phone that's ringing off the hook. However, the look of desperation on her daughter's face is what catches her attention, for once, and so she asks, "What's the matter, Spencer?"

Since she'd already struck out with the direct approach, Spencer decides to try a different tactic, this time. "Nothing. Just hungry. What's for dinner?"

"Well, I was in court all day and I haven't even looked at the kitchen, so you tell me," Veronica sighs, trying to make sense of everything pouring out of her manila folders. "Eating out or ordering in?"

"Either one," She shrugs. "You had a rough day?"

"The Corvallis case is not exactly swinging in my favor," Veronica frowns. "It's been going on far too long already; I mean whoever heard of going to court on a Saturday? Judge Pataki certainly wasn't pleased and it'll be a miracle if I can save myself in closing."

Spencer nods and pretends she cares about whatever trivial matter this being her mother's defending had committed. It's all about winning with her parents, not the actual case; after all, they get paid either way. She implores, "So you haven't been to your office yet?"

"I don't see why I would need to be," Veronica replies. "It's Saturday, after all. It's bad enough I had to go to court. Why do you ask?"

"I was just wondering," She says innocently. "I didn't know if you'd heard about whether or not you were covering the Patterson case you want, or where Alison is, or when your next conference is being scheduled-"

"Excuse me, go back," Veronica halts her daughter's tactic. "This is part of some ruse to get me to disclose privileged information? Spencer, you know I don't know where she is and even if I did-"

"You wouldn't tell me," Spencer repeats. "So I've heard."

Veronica shoots her a look, one reading, _Watch your tongue_, before leaving the room and Spencer gives in. When the police had taken the five girls from a hospital in New York, where they'd accompanied Ezra, back to Rosewood, the girls had been separated from Alison and she hasn't been seen since. Spencer had just assumed that since her parents basically ran the legal system in this town that they would know her location; in all honesty, she's not convinced they don't. After all, the Hastings family is known for keeping its secrets from one another. Leaving a newly found girl's whereabouts undisclosed is exactly the type of thing they would do if it meant they could keep Spencer from sticking her nose where it doesn't belong.

On Monday morning, the temperatures are back up to a balmy sixty degrees and any evidence that it had snowed the weekend prior is gone. Toby picks Spencer up for school like old times and the drive is met with a comfortable silence. Words aren't needed; they're complacent just to be in one another's company. When he pulls up in front of the great stone steps, she goes to bid him farewell, but he stops her in her tracks when he asks, "Did you know Caleb's back?"

She bites her lip and sits back against the seat, wondering if Toby would forever be the last to know. "I did. He came to see Hanna on Saturday while we were there."

He nods. "And I'm guessing they didn't settle things?"

"Not really," Spencer says. "She's still furious. I'm not really sure what happened, but I don't know if she's going to forgive him this time."

"I'm letting him crash at my place for a few days," Toby admits. "He doesn't have anywhere else to go. Do you think Hanna will be mad?"

"We just won't tell her," Spencer replies. "That was really nice of you, though."

"Well I wasn't going to let him sleep in an alley," Toby shrugs. "He said as soon as the motel has vacancy, he'd stay there, but for now…"

She smiles and kisses him, thoroughly overwhelmed by his considerate nature. He responds in earnest, but before they can lose themselves in the embrace, realization dawns on Spencer and she pulls away. "Wait, the motel doesn't have _any_ vacancy? Like not even one room?"

"That's what he said," Toby answers. "I thought it was weird, but maybe it's just- wait, where are you going?"

Spencer's out of the truck so fast, she's nearly given her boyfriend whiplash. She comes around to the driver's side, leans in the window and presses a chaste kiss to his lips in farewell. "I just- I'm going to be late for first period. I'll see you later?"

She barely catches his nod as she turns, bounds up the steps and makes a beeline for her classroom. The others are already there and do a double take when they notice their friend's eagerness. "Spence? Everything alright?"

"I know where Alison is," She whispers furiously and their eyes become saucers as the bell rings.

* * *

"Wait, wait, wait," Aria interjects. "You're saying she's been in our backyard this whole time?"

"Ew, gruesome much?" Hanna cringes. "Her body was found in a backyard."

"It wasn't her body," Emily chides. "And it was a gazebo. Or, the makings of one."

"A gazebo that's in a backyard," Hanna clarifies.

Aria defends, "Okay, it was a figure of speech! How do you know she's at the motel?"

"Because there's no vacancy," Spencer explains. "I checked the community news; there's absolutely nothing going on this week. No concerts, no conventions, nothing. Rosewood isn't exactly on anyone's top ten, you know? So why else would an _entire_ motel be booked out? I guarantee you Ali and her dad are there."

"How do you even know it's booked?" Hanna asks and Spencer hesitates.

"I checked into it," Spencer says hurriedly and when the others glance questioningly at her, she adds, "Come on, it's the most obvious choice, I thought I was eliminating it. Who knew that the Rosewood P.D. would actually be making things easy for us?"

"Maybe they're starting to realize that we're better at their jobs than they are," Emily says as the bell rings and the girls move to leave the lunch table. "So we're going there after school, then?"

"I don't see where we have another choice," Spencer says. "We're kind of stuck in a standstill and without Ali's help, it's only going to exacerbate."

"Hey, has anyone gotten any texts from our little frenemy?" Aria wonders. "You know, besides the sands of time she sent Hanna?"

The other three express the negative and Aria says, "Maybe she's run out of minutes."

"Maybe she's switching to a new data plan," Hanna joins in. "Unlimited talk and text with no extra fees for extortion and death threats!"

They laugh on their way to English class and as tragic as it is that this is what their humor has dwindled to, they must find the levity in the situation or they'll always be in tears. Ezra's medical leave hasn't been lifted yet and therefore, all four of the girls are able to breathe easy with a substitute teacher. Ezra had been, in a word, useless; the moment he was conscious again weeks ago, Aria had all but walloped him upside the head in an effort to get information out of him. Turns out, he hadn't known anything and the lack of answers they'd gotten from him had left them back at square one. Aria hasn't spoken to him since and none of the girls are going to encourage her to.

When the hallowed halls of learning finally release the girls for the afternoon, they pile into Emily's car and head for the motel. In a town as small as Rosewood, there is only one; it's the same motel in which –A had lured Spencer and Toby into a compromising position on a false lead about Jenna. It turns out 214 hadn't really been about Jenna at all; just another case of Spencer barking up the wrong tree. But it's a mistake she's glad she'd made to this very day; after all, she and Toby may have formed a camaraderie over the romantic French language and their skilled sleuthing abilities, but it was that night in the motel that truly solidified their dynamic. They'd gone into that motel apprehensive and a bit perturbed and had come out with a better understanding of who they were as people and, more importantly, who they were to one another.

By the time Emily pulls into the lot, however, it's clear that there is absolutely no way any of them will be speaking to Alison. There's a slew of police cars marking off the perimeter, a handful of officers patrolling the area and one directing traffic in and out of the motel parking lot. Emily slows as an officer halts her and when she rolls down her window, he tells her, "No vacancy. Move along, now."

"Oh, I'm not looking to check in," Emily tells him calmly. "My friend's staying here and I just need to-"

"I've been instructed to direct everyone that comes through here right back out," The cop says. "There's no one staying here. Your friend must've misinformed you."

"Really? There's no one staying here?" Spencer comments from the passenger seat. "So you have an entire squad sitting on an empty building?"

"Watch the way you speak to a person of authority," The cop warns. "It might get you into trouble."

"She's already been in plenty of trouble," Hanna chimes in, peering around Emily's shoulder. "We all have; even our friend, who we know is here. So if you could just let us see her-"

"Nobody is seeing anyone," The cop insists. "I don't know what kind of fairytale you girls live in, but this isn't about makeovers and overnights. Here, we have a dead body, an escaped convict and a missing persons case. This building is on 24-7 lockdown; no one's getting in, no one's getting out. Now go on; get home before your parents worry."

Emily has no choice; she does a U-turn and drives back to where they originated. They're all silent in defeat until Hanna breaks the tension with, "Overnights? Who calls them that anymore? He had to be like ninety."

"Is that what we're going to focus on?" Aria probes. "Did anyone else concentrate on his list of fun facts?"

"Well the dead body is Ali's mom, obviously," Spencer lists. "The missing persons case must be Ali. She kind of came back from the dead, so they're of course trying to figure out where she's been and why she faked her death."

"Okay," Emily says. "But who's the escaped convict? CeCe?"

"Could it be anyone else?" Spencer asks. "By the time we got back to Rosewood, CeCe was gone. She still hasn't been cleared of the charges against her, either."

"Okay, do we really think she killed Wilden?" Hanna ponders. "It just seems too obvious and if there's one thing this whole situation hasn't been, it's obvious."

"She's kind of got a point," Aria agrees. "I mean this whole thing has gotten so out of hand and we've suspected so many people, I started to wonder if I was -A."

"Look, we can't afford to lose our heads here," Emily says rationally. "We need to focus on Ali. If we can find a way to talk to her, then maybe we can shake some more information out of her and try and track down this person who's been after us."

"I think it's pretty obvious what the police are covering," Spencer says. "Ali's definitely in that motel. The question is… how do we get to her?"

They all take a moment to try and come up with a solution. As they do, their phones simultaneously buzz and their eerily silent tormentor awakens. Hanna reads, "_First is the worst, second is the best. I'm going to get her and you know the rest. Kisses, -A_."

"Well, it was nice while it lasted," Spencer laments and they all agree.

Spencer is the last to be dropped off at home and when she gets inside, all she wants to do is escape reality. Her house is empty, unsurprisingly, and there's a lime green Post-It note on the refrigerator, but Spencer doesn't bother reading it. If she knows her parents as well as she thinks she does, she already knows what it's going to say. After all, she's memorized their excuses by heart by now and reading anymore will just screw with the answers her mind is already filling in. Instead, she kicks off her shoes haphazardly and slinks upstairs, in search of her bedroom. She wants to read; she wants to curl up with a good book for pleasure and not for English class and she wants to escape to a world where awful things don't happen on the regular.

She plucks a book from her father's bookcase and avoids everything with a Latin subtitle or a spine thicker than her neck. She doesn't want to think anymore; she's _so tired_ of thinking. Spencer's not looking to search for hidden metaphors or higher meanings or uniquely complicated symbols. She wants to relax; she wants to _enjoy_ herself again. So, she curls up in the rocking chair and engrosses herself in a book that usually isn't her style; it must be why she's enjoying it so much. Day turns to night outside and her stomach growls but she doesn't interrupt her wandering eyes and somersaulting mind. It would take shock therapy to tear her from this book and so, of course, shock therapy is what she gets.

"Have you eaten?"

She nearly jumps out of her skin at the sound of Melissa's voice from the doorway. "Whoa, easy there, killer. It's just me."

"You scared me," Spencer clutches her heart as evidence. "I didn't even know you were home."

"I've been home all day; just in my room," The elder sister clarifies. "So have you or haven't you? Eaten, I mean."

"I haven't," Spencer says. "Whatever you want, I'll just go with it."

"Good, because I've been craving Thai all day," Melissa tells her and nods towards the book. "_Into the Wild_? Are you reading that for school?"

"No, for fun," Spencer corrects. "It's dad's; I just borrowed it."

"I read that in undergrad," Melissa says. "It was so strange. I mean, what a waste of time, right?"

"I think it's fascinating," Spencer disagrees. "He sold all his possessions, gave all of his money to charity and changed his identity to start anew in the Alaskan wilderness. The fact that it's a true story just makes it even more hauntingly breathtaking."

"Yeah, and if he'd more adequately prepared himself, maybe he'd still be around to tell his own story, Spencer," Melissa rolls her eyes. "He died; he only lasted four months before he starved."

"It's tragic," Spencer agrees. "But still admirable. You're telling me you never wanted to be someone else? Start all over?"

"No," Melissa insists. "I'm perfectly happy with who I am. You should be too."

She turns in the doorway, likely to go order their dinner, but Spencer halts her, asking, "Do you really think mom and dad don't know where Alison is?"

Melissa sighs and faces her sister again. "Let it go, Spencer. Why do you care so much?"

"Why do I care? She's my best friend," Spencer replies. "If they know and they're trying to keep it from me, they're doing a terrible job. I found out on my own that she's at the motel."

"The motel?" Melissa steps a little further into the room, intrigued. "Why there?"

"Who knows," Spencer shrugs. "But Mrs. DiLaurentis is dead and CeCe Drake is on the run again… Don't you think that looks suspicious?"

"You know what I think?" Melissa says. "I think you need to leave it alone, Spencer. Let the police handle it."

"That's the thing," Spencer exclaims. "They're not handling it. They're not even making connections."

"To what?"

"To CeCe and Wilden," Spencer answers. "They were involved somewhere down the line. And he was crooked and I'm sure she wanted him dead-"

"CeCe did not kill Wilden," Melissa says suddenly. "She was there the night he died, but she's not the one who killed him."

Spencer's in suspended shock for a moment. "How do you know that?"

"You need to stop looking into this," Melissa warns. "Just leave it alone."

Again, Melissa attempts to leave and again, Spencer prevents her from doing so. "You never denied it. When I asked if you did it… You didn't say no."

"Spencer, I don't like what I'm being accused of," Melissa replies in an exact imitation of their father. "Half this town wanted that guy dead just as much as they wanted Alison to disappear. Well, they all got their wish."

"You were in Cape May that summer too, with all of them," Spencer points out. "Did something happen between you guys? You and Wilden, or even you and CeCe? Were you in it together? Melissa, you can tell me-"

"I can't tell you anything," Melissa hisses. "And I need you to leave it alone."

This time, Spencer lets her go. But Melissa still turns back to say, "I'll order you the usual and let you know when it gets here."

Their conversation has left Spencer without an appetite, but she nods feebly anyway. Melissa can sense her sister's hesitation and sighs, as if their exchange has thoroughly exhausted her. "You just need to let it go, Spencer. Let it go before someone else gets hurt."

And with that, she's out the door.


	3. Three

**Hi guys! I hope you're all doing wonderfully this fine day! I really want to take a minute and get sentimental, so if you're sensitive to sap, I'd stop reading now. Your reviews mean the absolute world to me. They honestly do. I don't care how pithy or how prolific they are, I don't care if I get twenty, one, or none. I love them all the same. I just want you all to know that you're appreciated. If you're not reviewing, HOW DARE YOU. HAHA. Just kidding, because guess what? I love you too, equally as much as I love everyone else. I am NOT going to complain about anything. Seriously. Every last one of you who is taking time out of your life to read/review/etc. this story just leaves me in awe.**

**Why did I just go on this little love fest? Because I've been seeing a lot of hate recently, mostly on Tumblr. I'm not going to name names because that's not even in the least bit classy, but people are bitching about their stories not getting enough reviews or enough notes or what have you. They're even attacking others in doing this by saying stories that are "worse than theirs" plot-wise are getting all the reviews. I'm sorry, but this makes me so angry. People should be grateful that others are taking the time to read it and not ask for more. Beggars can't be choosers and something that isn't appealing to you might be appealing to someone else. This kind of attitude makes people feel like shit. I get that it's frustrating sometimes when you work SO hard on something and you don't get a lot of feedback, but taking it out on others is bullshit. Fanfiction is supposed to be a fun little outlet of creativity. It isn't supposed to start wars.**

**SO. I just wanted to let you know that if you all abandoned me or stopped reading or whatever, I would never treat you that way. You're all entitled to your own opinions, thoughts and beliefs just like I am. Let's try and keep this a positive thing, okay? I'm not accusing any of you of doing this because you're all spectacular. I just wanted you to realize how much I appreciate you. Thank you for your kind words; I hope you're enjoying so far and I hope you continue to. If you don't, you're always welcome to let me know. I'll never bite your head off for disagreeing with me haha. Again, thank you for reading, and have a magical day. :)**

* * *

Three

"_There's a murderer living in my house!_"

"Good morning to you, too, Spence," Toby yawns, pulling the phone from his ear ever so slightly to avoid her shriek. "Can I please have a cup of coffee before we talk conspiracy?"

"_No! There's no time for that! I didn't sleep at all last night; Melissa basically confessed to killing Wilden!_"

"In those words?"

"_Well, not in those words_."

"Can she hear you right now?"

"_She's in the shower._"

"You might be overreacting, then," Toby counters. "She wasn't even in town when Wilden died, was she?"

"_Toby, focus! She was at lodge the same time we were and when we left, we found Wilden's body! There was plenty of time for her and CeCe-_"

"Hold on," Toby halts her. "Now you're dragging CeCe into this too? I thought you said she was too much of an obvious choice?"

"_Well she was, but Melissa said she was there the night Wilden was murdered. Plus Travis ID'd her. And how else would Melissa know that CeCe was at the scene of the crime? She was obviously there too and they're in this together; they're probably covering for each other_."

"Wait," Toby stops her again. "Who's Travis?"

"_Do you pay attention to me when I talk to you?_"

"Spencer, it's six-thirty in the morning," Toby explains. "I haven't had coffee yet and you're running on no sleep. Excuse me for being a little behind the ball."

"_What does me getting no sleep have to do with this?_"

"Well, you know how most people, when they're sleep-deprived, are slow and lethargic and quiet?" Toby says. "You're the exact opposite."

She huffs, indignant, and Toby laughs a bit, enjoying ruffling her feathers in that way that only he can. In all honesty, he's not sure Melissa's done anything wrong. Throughout the year or so he and Spencer had been together, Melissa had always been morally ambiguous. She'd always been involved in some shady business and jetting off to D.C. or Philadelphia or New York hadn't always looked good to the observant eye. But weeks earlier, when Toby had confronted her in London, Melissa had dropped everything she was doing and caught a red-eye home to be there for her sister. Her actions may be a bit suspicious at times, but Toby knows that her love for Spencer is completely genuine.

Before he can tell his girlfriend, however, his phone chimes with a text message and he pulls away a moment to check. His heart begins to pound a bit faster as he reads, "_Hey, bestie! Haven't heard from you in a while! Are we still friends? Kisses, -A_."

"_Toby? Are you still there?_"

He ignores the message and returns to the call. "I'm here."

"_Everything okay? You went silent on me_."

"No, I'm good, I just… dropped the phone," He shrugs. "Look, I think you should get all the facts you can before pointing the finger at your sister."

"_I can't get any facts! Anytime I ask her anything, she tells me to let it go._"

"As sketchy as that does sound," Toby says. "Did you ever think that maybe she didn't murder him, but knows too much about what happened that night? Maybe she's just protecting you from the truth."

"_Or maybe the truth is something I don't want to hear and that's why she's not telling me_."

"Maybe," Toby sighs. There's no getting through to her, he knows, especially when she's got her mind set on something. "I have to get ready for work. Do you want a ride to school?"

"_Yes please_."

"Do you want me to bring you coffee?"

"_I knew I loved you for a reason_."

Grinning, Toby hangs up and begins to ready himself for the day. He still hadn't unpacked since his return from London; he hadn't gotten around to it and thus, he's still living out of his suitcase. He knows he'll have to do laundry soon enough; his clothing supply had never been superfluous, and it's only dwindled since he'd acquired a kleptomaniac girlfriend. When he's showered and dressed, Toby chats easily with Caleb as he gets his tools together for the job at hand and the shaggy-haired friend of his promises to vacate the loft by the end of the week. Toby's not complaining and he's certainly not going to kick his friend out. He's actually enjoyed the company, so far. There is no doubt in his mind that moving out of his parents' place had been the best decision he's ever made, but at times, he will admit to being a bit lonely. After all, there's no one to talk to when you live by yourself.

Granted, since Jenna came along, Toby hadn't conversed with his parents much, anyway.

Downstairs, he gets to The Brew just as it opens and picks up a coffee for himself and one for Spencer as well. Just as he gets behind the wheel of the truck, he gets another message from his long-lost "friend." "_Hey! I thought we were BFFs! After all I did for you- the 'F' doesn't stand for forgotten! Call me! –A_."

He wonders if he should tell someone. Toby hesitates and presses 'delete' instead.

* * *

When Emily had arrived home from school the day prior, a very large, very prestigious-looking envelope was waiting for her on the kitchen table of their newly remodeled home. Her mother was nearly bouncing up and down with excitement and all it took was one look at the letterhead to know why. Emily didn't even have to open the envelope to know what they had to say; no one sends a rejection letter in that big of a format. However, there are many reasons why Emily can't exactly be happy about her acceptance letter. The main reason, of course, is because her shoulder injury had completely sidelined her. She can't swim anymore; she's lost her marketability and she's not too sure Stanford will be pleased to find out. And the second reason, of course, is because of Paige McCullers.

Paige's betrayal had taken Emily completely by surprise. She remembers, months ago, learning about Toby selling his soul to the devil in an attempt to protect Spencer and it had shaken her to her very core. It made her question everything; how far were people willing to go to ensure the safety of the ones they loved? She'd not once doubted Toby's devotion and love for her best friend, but she had wondered how anyone could hurt the one they love just so they could be sure that person wouldn't hurt in the future. She'd believed it so firmly, had trusted it with all her heart, and then Paige decided to join the fight. Paige had done what Emily had never asked her to; she'd fought her battles for her. Emily knows she's the weakest link; -A has told her time and time again. She knows she'll never have Spencer's intellect, Aria's resilience or Hanna's sharp tongue. But she also knows that when backed into a corner, she can hold her own. She doesn't need Paige to do it for her.

Once, there had been dreams of twin beds pushed together and puffy drapes in a dorm room she and Paige would share on their journey towards bachelor's degrees. That was when their relationship was intact and only one of them had a sure future at Stanford. Now, both of them have the opportunity, but their relationship had taken a hell of a beating. Emily wants to believe that Paige told the police about Alison for her; truly, she does. She wants to believe that their love is _so strong_ that Paige just couldn't handle the idea of Emily being in danger. But she doesn't believe that. She knows better. Paige hates Alison more than Emily ever thought it was possible to hate anyone. And once again, she's torn; Alison _deserves_ Paige's hate. There is absolutely nothing about the way Alison treated her that is excusable. But even still, Emily wishes the situation hadn't played out the way it did.

She sees Paige sitting at one of the tables in the courtyard and approaches her. Emily decides that she should hear the news now before she hears it through the grapevine. "Hey."

"Hi," Paige greets quietly. "I didn't know we were still talking."

"Neither did I," Emily admits. "How are you?"

"Stressed," Paige declares. "I've got a midterm next period and I've been cramming all night."

"That sucks."

"Yeah. It does."

It's painfully awkward and it hasn't been this way since Paige threw Emily that super tense birthday party months earlier. Paige sighs and asks, "Did we break up? I feel like it's over but we never really talked about it."

"No, we didn't," Emily sighs, sinking onto the bench before her. "I don't know what to do. I love you, Paige, but… I don't think that's enough anymore. I don't think I can get over what you did."

"I only did it to try and help," Paige claims. "If Alison felt the need to fake her death and runaway, as a teenager, then there is something seriously wrong here. Whoever's after her is dangerous and I don't want you to get caught in the crossfire."

"I understand," Emily says. "But I trusted you with this secret and you went to the police. If I can't tell you things, how are we ever supposed to have full disclosure?"

"I'm sorry that I hurt you," Paige remains fierce. "But I do not feel sorry for Alison and I'm not sorry for what I did. It sucks that this is happening to her, but maybe if she hadn't been such a jackass to everyone in Rosewood, it wouldn't be so hard to figure out who wants her dead."

The words hit Emily like a smack in the face, but the truth hits her even harder. She wants to hate Paige for the things she's said about Alison, but she just can't bring herself to. Because no matter how much affection she may have for Alison, deep down she knows that her friend deserved a lot of what was dished out to her. Emily draws in a deep breath instead to keep herself from lashing out. "I got accepted to Stanford yesterday."

Paige's eyes widen at the abrupt subject change. "You did? That's amazing! Congratulations!"

"I'm not going to go," Emily finds herself saying, even though she hasn't even considered the opportunity fully. "It's a great program for somebody else. I'm not the right fit."

"What do you mean?" Paige disagrees. "You're the whole package."

"I can't swim anymore; I doubt they'll want me for my C in physics," Emily says. "And since my parents can't afford it any other way, it was never really an option for me in the first place."

Paige is quiet a moment before saying, "We are over, aren't we?"

Emily stands and gathers her books. "I don't know, Paige."

Truthfully, she really doesn't.

* * *

Caleb's leaning against Hanna's locker and it feels all too familiar. If she were to come out of class and ask him to peel his sweaty body off of her domain, like old times, it would likely send him into a fit of relief. He knows she probably won't; he doesn't blame her. His time in Ravenswood had opened his eyes to many things, but on top of that list had been the fact that leaving Rosewood, more importantly leaving _her_, had been a crucial mistake. Most of what happened to him in Ravenswood had been a surreal blur; ask him to name five of these things and he probably couldn't make you a solid list. He wonders if he was possessed the entire time; moving through the motions but not actually alive. Somehow, he'd come to; somehow, he'd snapped out of it. He knows Hanna can't see that now, but he isn't going to stop expressing his sorrow. He'll beg on his hands and knees if he has to, just to get back in her good graces.

The look of disgust on her face when she sees him is unparalleled. She reserves that look for the lowest of the low and Caleb can't say he's glad to be on the receiving end. "What are you doing? I need my binder. Get out of the way."

He obliges and says, "I just wanted to see how you were doing today."

"I'm fine," She says shortly, twisting the combination lock and not meeting his eyes.

"Have you been staying out of –A's way since I've been gone?" Caleb asks. "I mean, have you been careful?"

"Oh, because you're not here, I can't take care of myself?" Hanna probes indignantly.

"No, that's not what I said," He disagrees. "I just want to know that you're safe."

"Yes, Caleb," She rolls her eyes. "Contrary to popular belief, a girl doesn't need a guy to rely on to take care of her. I can handle myself, you know. I don't need your protection."

"I know," Caleb chances a smile. "Remember when you all but accosted me when I tried to cop a feel on the Halloween train?"

Hanna slams her locker shut, her icy blue eyes boring into his menacingly. "I've done worse to you in my head."

With that, she stalks off down the hall and Caleb has to admit defeat. He doesn't want to come off as pushy or annoying; truly, he doesn't. If Hanna never loves him again, if she never wants to give their relationship another try, then he'll completely respect her wishes. He'll love her regardless, anyway. But he can't stand the thought of her loathing him. He just wants to be on her good side again; he wants to be there for her, to be a person she can rely on. They'd been through so much together and he doesn't see that as going on in vain. He has faith that they'll reconcile and he knows it may be a long journey, but he's prepared for the uphill battle nevertheless.

He spots Lucas across the hall and nods towards his old friend, but receives only a glare in return. Frowning, Caleb crosses the hallway and approaches him, asking, "What's up?"

"You're back," Lucas deadpans. "Excuse me if I don't throw a welcome party."

"Hey, what's your deal, man?" Caleb wonders. "Is there something I said or did to you? I'm sorry if my reappearance is an inconvenience to you."

"It's not," Lucas shakes his head. "Just forget it."

"You kind of made that hard," Caleb says. "Are you just mad at me through osmosis?"

Lucas's eyebrows twitch. "What?"

"You're still friends with Hanna, aren't you?" Caleb asks. "She's pissed at me; is that why you are?"

"Hanna and I don't really talk much these days," Lucas growls. "And if we did, it wouldn't be about you."

"Hey," Caleb catches his friend's arm as he moves to go. "What is going on with you? Do you have a problem with me?"

"No!" Lucas shouts, ripping his arm from Caleb's grasp and catching the attention of half the hall. "Just leave me alone!"

He bounds off down the hall and Caleb is left in his dust, utterly confused.

* * *

"How am I supposed to sit there and focus on _Hamlet_," Aria asks. "When _he's_ the one teaching? I should just skip."

"No. You owe him _nothing_," Spencer disagrees. "I don't know why he hasn't skipped town yet, but I would be more than happy to run him out for you."

Aria smiles gratefully. "And I'm sure you'd get a kick out of that, but I can't drag you into this. If he's going to go down for his reputation with students, I think one's bad enough."

Needless to say, news of Ezra's return to Rosewood High had not fallen upon welcoming ears among the girls. The past few weeks while he'd been in recovery had been refreshing; they'd had an equally knowledgeable and passionate substitute who had gotten them through _The Awakening_, a beast of a book on their senior curriculum. She had just introduced _Hamlet_ and with it came the announcement that Ezra would be returning. Now, the girls sit anxiously in their seats; not where they once were, scattered about the classroom, but instead as an impenetrable force in the back row. They refuse to be active participants in a class taught by Jekyll and Hyde.

"Aria, you know you're better than him," Spencer encourages. "You've got to keep your head held high. He can't break you."

"He already has," She shoots back. "I'm surprised he didn't tell the authorities about the time I played _Wreck-It Ralph_ in his apartment."

"If he told the police, he would've had to explain why you were there in the first place," Spencer explicates. "He obviously would've been in more trouble than you."

"So once again, he's just looking out for number one," Aria says bitterly. "God, how could I have been so stupid to think that it wouldn't end up this way?"

"Don't make it your fault," Spencer shakes her head but Aria insists.

"No, Spence, think about it," She goes on. "Why did I delude myself into thinking that he and I would be alright in the end? There were so many things working against us and we still fought against it. We still had this fantasy that we could beat the odds."

"Everyone has a fantasy of dating their teacher, sooner or later," Spencer says. "But it's a fantasy for a reason."

Ezra enters, then, and the room quiets. He gives some sob story about fighting for his life and being extremely lucky, but the girls are having none of it. When he launches into a discussion of the play's first act, he opens with, "I'm wondering- do any of you feel like Claudius and Gertrude are in the wrong for telling Hamlet he's been mourning his father too long? I mean, who are they to assign a limit to one's melancholy?"

Aria raises her hand confidently and says, "I think they're completely justified."

"You do?" Ezra probes. "How so?"

"Things change and people die," Aria says bluntly. "Claudius is right when he says that all fathers die and all sons lose their fathers. He knows Hamlet can mourn as he pleases, but he is definitely correct in thinking that mourning for too long is unmanly and inappropriate."

Ezra looks a bit stung, but then asks, "And you think that mourning something that one's lost, something that meant a great deal to him, makes him unmanly?"

"Without a doubt," Aria states with a curt nod of the head.

"I would like to one hundred percent back her up on that," Spencer declares.

"Me too," Emily puts in. "To mourn something that long is weak and unnecessary."

"One might even say," Hanna adds. "Pathetic."

They can tell Ezra's taking this as a personal dig, but to show this would be unprofessional. He implores, "Would you venture to say that this is what drove Hamlet insane? His profound sadness?"

"No, Hamlet was always insane," Aria argues. "He just hid it well, before."

Ezra frowns. "I'm not sure your point is valid."

"Isn't it?" Aria continues. "His grand scheme is to pretend to be insane to jar his uncle into confessing to his father's murder. In doing so he completes a bunch of crazy things- conversing with a ghost, driving his girlfriend to suicide, having an outburst in his mother's room and killing the royal advisor. He's doing insane things and he's justifying it by outwardly saying he's only pretending to be crazy. But I don't think he's pretending at all. I think he's always been certifiable and only now is it becoming clear to others."

The entire room is shocked into silence. Ezra stares at her a long time and she can feel the girls' impressed gazes burning a hole into her petite frame. The bell isn't going to ring for another twenty minutes, but even so, Ezra says, "Class dismissed."

* * *

Toby gets another text from –A as he's driving home from work that reads, "_I guess we're not as close as I thought we were. Your mom would die to know how much she doesn't mean to you. Too bad she's dead already- and you'll never know why. –A_." He ignores this one too. As much as he wants answers, and he wants them more than words can say, he knows he can't give in to her advances. If he uses –A to solicit information again, it's only going to cause more harm than good. He's stuck between a rock and a hard place; he refuses to get answers from –A and he can no longer speak publicly about his mother's death, thanks to a certain agreement he'd signed barring some hesitation. He sighs in defeat and begins to trudge up the stairs towards his loft.

As he glances inside The Brew, however, he spots Emily behind the counter and decides to pay her a visit instead. Her face brightens when she sees him and he can tell from that very action she hadn't had a great day. "What's wrong? You look upset."

She frowns and his suspicions are confirmed. "I got into Stanford yesterday."

"Congratulations!" He exclaims and if she didn't have a tray full of used cups and saucers, he'd have hugged her. "Why is that a bad thing? Isn't that what you and Paige wanted?"

She shoots him a look and Toby understands. "You and Paige are still on the outs, huh?"

"I just don't know what to do about us," Emily sighs. "I don't know why she would do that, you know? I don't get how you could do that to another person."

Toby's quiet a moment before saying, "Sometimes the person you love's safety is so important that you'll do anything not to endanger them, even if it ruins your chances with them in the long run. Sometimes it's worth it."

Emily glances back at him and is quick to assure him, "Toby, I didn't mean that as a slight to you. I know how much you love Spencer and that you'll do anything to protect her."

"That doesn't make what I did right; same with Paige," Toby says. "But she feels the same way about you. If you can forgive me, I think you can forgive her too."

It's Emily's turn to fall silent. "You're right. I just have mixed feelings about the situation. I'm torn between my loyalty to Paige and my allegiance to my friend."

"Can I ask you something? And you don't have to answer," Toby probes and when she nods he continues. "When we became friends, it was clear to me that you had feelings for Maya. But she's not the first girl you ever had feelings for, is she?"

Emily hesitates but eventually shakes her head. "Alison is the reason I realized I was different. I thought I was so close to her because I wanted her to like me, but it was really because I wanted her to _like_ me."

"I understand," Toby says. "So now you don't want to choose Paige and upset Alison, but you don't want to choose Alison and upset Paige. It's a catch-22."

"Exactly," Emily nods fiercely. "I just want to go to bed and wake up in a world where things aren't incredibly complicated."

"Well, if you find that place, let me know," Toby grins and bids her farewell, heading for the loft.

Emily goes about the rest of her afternoon feeling much better, strangely, about the situation. It's nice to have a friend like Toby, someone who isn't judgmental, someone who listens and truly understands and wants to help. When she'd told the girls about her predicament, Aria had sided with her, Spencer had sided with Paige and Hanna refused to comment, wondering how any of them could possibly worry about matters of the heart in a time like this. Emily supposes she'll eventually have to make a decision; either way, she'll have to right things with Paige, because breaking off all contact is rude and unnecessary. But she doesn't get to dwell too long upon this. When she takes her fifteen-minute break, she checks her phone and has a new text message, although it isn't from –A, this time.

"_Em- tomorrow night, 7:00, behind The Brew. Bring the girls. I'll come to you- DON'T look for me. – Alison_."


	4. Four

**Good morning, good morning, good morning! As you can see, Update Fridays are no longer a thing. I'm going to try and update more often, as I now have over half the story written out and ready for you. I only have five or six chapters left, so you'll definitely be seeing more of me, now! Also, thank you for your understanding of my last author's note haha. I'm sorry I went on a rant. I just got very frustrated and wanted you all to know that won't be taking place here. **

**Thank you all for the feedback! Thank you for reading, thank you for reviewing, thank you for favoriting and following and what have you. I couldn't ask for better supporters, seriously. I don't how people think they can. ;) I hope you enjoy this chapter and have a happy Memorial Day (if you're in the states, that is). See you soon!**

* * *

Four

The others are milling about in apprehension and a glimmer of hope, but Spencer isn't. Spencer knows better. She's learned through a life of ups and downs not to put her faith in people, least of all Alison DiLaurentis. It's after seven, now, and the alley is dark and dingy and cold, but there's still no sign of the mysterious fifth member of their party. When she's with the girls, Spencer is all for helping Alison come home and trying to trap the killer like Nancy Drew. But secretly, privately, Spencer doesn't want to help her. She feels awful for admitting it; after all, Alison had plenty of good qualities that spoke for their friendship. But this inseparable group of four had survived well enough without their fearless leader and truthfully, Spencer doesn't want to regress. She doesn't want things to go back to the way they were.

It's well after seven by the time Alison makes an appearance, but here she is, in the flesh. She doesn't look as shattered or as broken as she was the last time they'd seen her, but in her eyes there's still a look of a lost and scared little girl looking for a way out. Spencer's sure they all look like this and she doesn't know how any of them are holding it together. She supposes they all rely on one another to stay sane, but four unsteady supports do not make for a solid foundation. She can tell the others want to know the logistics- where she's really staying, how she's doing, etc. Spencer doesn't care about that right now. There would be time for niceties later. Right now, they need the facts. If they're going to finally unmask –A, they're going to need as much information as they can gather.

"I've got about twenty to thirty minutes," Alison says first. "I've been escorted by the police and sooner or later they're going to realize I'm not meeting my grandmother for coffee."

"They bought that?" Aria asks, skeptical.

"Yeah, it's clearly his first day on the force," Alison tells her. "I told him my grandma's old and weak and needed to know I was okay. I played the sympathy card and got a hit."

"Whatever," Emily expresses. "We're just glad you're here."

"You are staying at the motel, aren't you?" Hanna asks. "Was Spencer right?"

"Yeah," Alison confirms. "It offers little privacy; my dad's breathing down my neck every two seconds."

"But the police must make you feel safe, right?" Aria wonders. "I mean, no one can get to you while they're there."

"There hasn't been a sighting of CeCe in weeks," Alison says. "They're going to release us by Friday and they want us to make a public announcement that I'm still alive."

"You can't do that," Spencer blurts. "It'll lead –A to your doorstep."

"Why do you think I'm freaking out?" Alison shoots back. "If there's any way that we can speed this process up, now would be the best time to do it."

"The police still think CeCe's the one who's after you," Spencer says. "What do you think?"

Alison sighs. "I wouldn't put it past her. That bitch always hated me."

"But you two were friends," Aria points out. "She said so herself."

"Your mom," Hanna begins and pauses when Alison's eyes cloud over. "She said you two used to borrow personalities."

"Yeah, there was a honeymoon period- isn't there always?" Alison counters. "We met at that bar- the Hart and the Huntsman. I hit on this older guy and he totally shut me down. CeCe saw everything and completely stuck up for me. I mean, she went crazy bitch on this guy and she didn't even know me yet. After that, we were inseparable."

"Your mom didn't like her," Emily states and Alison snorts.

"My mom _hated _her," She corrects. "She said I had four perfectly wholesome friends; why did I feel the need to 'marry up'? She didn't understand that I needed to let loose every now and then. I went a little wild with CeCe and she didn't exactly approve of my behavior. I think it reminded her of Jason."

"She dated Jason, didn't she?"

"If you could call it that," Alison says. "They fooled around; I think she inspired him. I always thought it was horrifying. I mean, she was making out with my DNA. Our DNA, huh Spence?"

Spencer purses her lips. "So that party we went to; the frat party. You got her kicked out of school?"

"That girl that fell down the stairs? She's fine, by the way," Alison adds as an afterthought. "Turns out her father owned like half the school and threatened to sue if the person behind the accident didn't come to justice. I don't know what happened, but I did see Ian with CeCe and so I blamed it on her. Said I saw her push the girl on purpose. She didn't take that lightly."

"Okay, you got her kicked out of school," Hanna says. "How does that give her a reason to want you dead?"

"Wait," Spencer halts them. "Ian was with Melissa back then. You saw him with CeCe?"

"They were drunk off their asses and your sister was too busy writing a term paper," Alison deadpans. "You do the math. He may not have tried to kill me, but he's no saint."

"Trust me," Spencer says. "I learned that when he almost murdered me."

"I don't know if CeCe wants me dead," Alison shrugs. "But after what happened in Cape May, I know that she absolutely hates me."

"What happened?" Emily asks.

"You never found out?"

"We know you were there and CeCe," Aria says. "And Wilden and Melissa, too."

"And that's where you met Beach Hottie and Board Shorts," Hanna adds. "Wait, are they the same person?"

Alison nods. "I switched the nicknames a few times so you wouldn't get suspicious."

"A little late for that," Spencer says. "Who was it?"

"Just a fling," Alison states. "Everyone's got the fantasy of the sexy beach romp with a lifeguard, right? Mine just became reality."

"Is he the one who…" Emily trails off before quietly adding. "You thought you were pregnant. Was he…?"

"Yeah," Alison shakes her head. "But really, what's important is that CeCe and I were doing just fine together until she met Wilden. And he was great at first; he took us on his boat and we drank and had a great time."

"Why was my sister there?" Spencer wonders and Alison shrugged.

"I don't know," Alison confesses. "I don't know, but she caused nothing but trouble from the moment she arrived. She drove a wedge between CeCe and Wilden and he got angry and violent. CeCe wanted to break it off with him, but she was scared and she was my friend, so I offered to do it for her."

"He's the one," Emily says. "The one who pulled his gun on you."

Alison nods. "I don't know if Melissa knew about the affair or if she just hated CeCe, but _something_ went down on that boat that night. CeCe never spoke to me again, which is just _great_ considering what I did for her, and Melissa treated me like I was a rodent. Wilden had turned them both against me when I wasn't to blame in the first place."

"I'm so lost," Hanna groans and Alison smiles.

"Now you know how I feel."

"Wait, so who are you placing the blame on?" Aria asks. "Wilden, Melissa or CeCe?"

"Honestly?" Alison begins. "I can't rule any of them out."

"Well Wilden's dead," Spencer says. "So if he's the one who tried to kill you, he and –A aren't the same person."

"Wait," Hanna stops them from speculating. "When I was in the hospital, you came to visit, right? That was really you?"

Alison nods and adds, "I came to see all of you, at least once. It wasn't a hallucination and you weren't dreaming. I was really there."

"Even…" Spencer trails off to find the strength to ask, "Even when I was crazy?"

"You were never crazy, Spencer," Alison says firmly. "We all get a little lost sometimes."

They let the truth set in a moment before Hanna says, "When you came to see me, you said you saw –A everyday. Don't you _know_ who it is?"

"I knew who –A was," Alison admits. "I don't know who –A is."

"It was Mona back then, remember?" Emily clarifies and Hanna frowns.

"Someone stole the game from her and she doesn't know who," Hanna sighs. "She was in Radley on serious meds."

"But remember what she said?" Aria asks. "She said that CeCe came to visit her and she can't remember their conversation. Do you think that's when CeCe became –A?"

"Toby did say that Red Coat was in charge," Spencer supplements. "Well, back then, at least. And we know CeCe was Red Coat… She must be working for someone."

"The question is," Emily says. "Who?"

A phone buzzes in Alison's pocket and she jumps, but relaxes when she learns it's not from their collective tormentor. "I've got to go. We can do this again soon. Don't come to the motel, okay? They'll just get rid of you. I'll do everything I can to get out of the press conference."

The others nod obediently and head out of the darkened alley. When they're out of earshot, Alison catches Spencer's arm and says, "I know you don't want to help me, Spencer, but you know you wouldn't be where you are without me."

Spencer shoots her a look, incredulous. "What?"

"My mother always said you were jealous of me," She goes on. "She always firmly believed that you were out to get me because you wanted what I had."

"What are you talking about?" Spencer asks, disgusted.

"But she also said never to turn my back on a Hastings. She said _you can't_ turn your back on a Hastings and I don't intend to," Alison continues, steamrolling over her friend's confusion. "As long as you do the same."

Again, Spencer's perplexed. "What are you trying to tell me?"

"Watch your back," Alison warns. "Melissa knows I have never been fond of her and clearly the feeling is mutual, but I do not trust her and I don't think you should either."

Spencer says, "She's my sister."

"I know," Alison nods. "And the worst betrayals always come from the closest of kin."

Without waiting for a reply, Alison disappears into the night, leaving Spencer feeling utterly ruffled and flustered. The fact that Mrs. DiLaurentis had felt those things about her and her family doesn't really shock her; they had certainly given the woman reason to feel that way. But what really bothers her is that yesterday, the Melissa paranoia had been just that- paranoia. Now, Alison truly seems to feel like Spencer's own flesh and blood could be the person who tried to put her into the ground. Spencer doesn't want to believe it's possible, but things are starting to click into place and her mind can't stop jumping to conclusions. She needs to be told she's wrong; she needs to be told she's overreacting. So, she turns in search of the staircase and heads up to her boyfriend's loft, praying he's at home and his houseguest is not.

She slides her key into the door, the copy he'd made her weeks ago, and is met with silence. There's no sign of Caleb, but Toby's on the couch, his back to her, and just seeing him there is enough to ease some of the tension in her shoulders. She greets, "Hey. I know we never made plans tonight, but I just needed to see you."

But when he glances up, she's immediately alarmed. His eyes are tinted pink, tears stain his cheeks and he's shaking; in anger or sorrow, she can't really tell. She drops her things and goes to him instantly. "But not like this. What's wrong? What's going on?"

He looks at her like he's seeing her for the first time and it absolutely breaks her heart. Wiping at his eyes, he clears his throat and says, shakily, "-A's been texting me, yesterday and today, asking if we were still friends. Asking why I wasn't taking her leads anymore."

"Did you?" Spencer probes. "Tell me you didn't. It's dangerous, Toby."

"I didn't," Toby negates. "And because I didn't, she sent me this."

He pushes the phone into her grasp, as though he cannot physically bear the pain any longer, and glances away. Toby shoves his face into his palms and Spencer's sure that what she's about to read is bound to be something heartbreaking about his mother. How many crosses would this poor man be forced to bear? From his shallow breathing, Spencer can tell he's trying very hard not to break down again and she almost doesn't want to read the source of his pain, what's killing him so much. But when she does, it has absolutely nothing to do with his mother. –A has sent just a simple message of, "_You asked for it. Kisses- and tissues-, -A_." But attached is a video clip; the moment Spencer clicks on it, a pit grows in her stomach.

"_Will you just tell me that what I saw tonight wasn't real? Please! Please tell me that there's more to the story_," Spencer hears herself cry, her heart constricting in her chest. "_That there's something that I don't know. Please, Toby! Please, tell me!_"

She watches herself, bawling on Toby's front step, and wants to vomit. If she never relives that night ever again, it will be too soon. Guttural sobs are wracking her onscreen body and, like a train wreck, she can't tear her eyes away. Toby snatches the phone from her grasp, saying, "That goes on for thirty minutes. Please turn that off. I _can't_ listen to it again."

Spencer's honestly speechless. Thirty minutes is only a fraction of the time she'd spent there that night, bawling her eyes out, but it had only taken thirty seconds to completely break him. He wipes furiously at his eyes again, taking her hands brutishly, and promising, "Spencer, if I was there… If I had known…"

She finds her voice. "Would it have made a difference?"

And there it is; the starting point of an argument they'd been avoiding since their reunion in the motel months earlier. They'd made a vow to one another that night- no more secrets. They couldn't afford it. Of course, they'd both broken it and most likely would continue to until they could finally put this whole nightmare behind them. But they'd never talked about what happened after his big reveal. He'd apologized and she'd forgiven him and they'd swept it under the rug. But with each passing day, the monster beneath the rug grows bigger, tougher, meaner and harder to ignore. –A has only unleashed it; unlocked the chains of their fiercely guarded hearts and battered and bruised egos and allowed an even larger monster to take place in their minds- doubt. If they don't have this conversation now, their relationship will have an expiration date. It's only a matter of time before something else becomes their undoing.

Toby can hear the bitterness in her voice and nods slowly. "Of course it would have. Do you think if I was at my apartment, if I had heard you crying like that, that I could've ignored it?"

"You knew I was hurting," Spencer accuses. "You knew I was at Radley. You let me believe you'd _died_. And you did nothing. Why would this have been any different?"

Toby glances away, ashamed and unsure of how to answer. When he doesn't say anything else, she's the one who continues. "After I found out, I wanted to hate you. I wanted to hate you so badly… but I couldn't. I didn't, not for a second. I still loved you, even after everything you'd done. Instead, I hated myself, because how could I love someone who would treat me that way? How could I love someone who faked everything we'd ever had, who'd lied to my face? I don't know… but I did. And what does that say about me?"

"I never faked anything. You _have_ to believe me, Spencer," Toby insists. "There is not a second that went by, the whole time we were together, that I didn't love you. I need you to know that; I need you to _believe_ that."

"I do. _Now_," Spencer clarifies. "But back then… I felt like you were the only one who ever understood me. You were the only one who kept me from falling over the edge and when I found that badge, when I saw you in my kitchen, in that _hoodie_… I didn't fall off the cliff, you threw me off."

"Let me explain," Toby pleads. "_Please_ let me explain."

Spencer nods silently and he draws in a deep breath. "After we fought about Jason, I was fed up with all of the lies and the secret-keeping. I wanted you to be safe and I knew you wouldn't be if you kept things from me. I didn't know what you were lying about and what parts were the truth, but I was determined to find out. I thought you were lying because… because you didn't trust me."

"That's not it, Toby. I didn't trust –A," Spencer tells him. "-A severed the brake line in your truck. –A tossed you off of that scaffolding. Every time I disclosed information, you got hurt. I was keeping you in the dark to protect _you_. I didn't want you to get hurt."

"I know. I know," Toby nods and goes on. "Mona approached me when I got the job in Bucks County. She said she had answers for me if I was willing to do her a favor. I didn't know what that favor was; I stupidly assumed it was something minor. But she told me everything and at the end of it all, when she pulled back the curtain, there was no man behind it. It was her. She'd sucked me into her team and I hadn't even known it. When I told her I wanted no part in it, she'd said that the game of cat and mouse is only fun while the mouse is still alive. She'd said… She'd said it would be very easy to make you disappear… and make it look like an accident."

"She's _crazy_," Toby goes on, trying hard not to focus on Spencer's pale complexion or the look of disgust in her eyes. "She had me doing grunt work at first to prove my loyalty. I was instructed to go on with you like nothing was wrong and it _killed_ me, Spencer. Every time… Every time I looked at you, I wanted to tell you the truth. It ate away at me for weeks and when you found me in your kitchen, as angry and upset as you were, I felt relief. I hated myself; I still do. But I was glad that at least I wasn't lying to you anymore. I would rather you know the truth and hate me than love me for the lies I was telling you."

"What happened after that?" Spencer asks, her voice small. "After you left?"

"I cut off all contact with her," Toby admits. "I left town, I motel-hopped a lot and I tried to figure out a way to make things right. But I never did. Everything I'd done was irreparable. Mona didn't take my departure lightly and she hated that I was ignoring her and that's why… That's why she killed me."

Spencer glances away, her mind filling the void in with images she'd care not to remember. Toby senses this, but must push on. He does so softly, as to not irritate her further. "It turns out, it was never about hurting you. It was about _recruiting_ you. She didn't want to push either of us to our limits. She wanted to completely break you and she wanted to use me to do it."

"I kind of put that together on my own," Spencer says. "She'd approached me before about joining the –A Team and I turned her down. I should've known one day she would strike again."

"This isn't your fault. None of this is your fault," Toby says. "I found out what she did when she sent me a copy of my own funeral leaflet. That's how I found out how devastated you were, that's how I found out you were in Radley… and I came home. I didn't know she'd actually recruited you until we were sitting in that diner."

Spencer exhales and says, "You broke my heart."

"I know I did," He laments. "I know. I broke mine too. It was stupid and selfish and I want to take it back. I hate what I did to you; I hate it _so much_. I was so blinded by the need to protect you that I didn't see… I didn't see that I was doing it in the worst way."

"When I found the body in the woods," Spencer speaks candidly. "I thought… I thought that it was the worst thing that could possibly happen. You were innocent and you were good and I corrupted you. I brought you into my world of lies and deception and _evil_… and you died for it. It would have been my fault. And that's why I had a breakdown. Not just because I loved you and now you were gone forever, but because… You were dead because of _me_."

"No one could think that," Toby shakes his head. "No one could _believe_ that. I'm sorry. I hate myself for what I did. I do."

"Don't," Spencer frowns. "Don't hate yourself. I don't hate you; quite the opposite actually. I'm not sure I'll ever forget… but I forgive you, Toby. I really do."

"I'm sorry," He pleads again. "I'm so sorry. I love you. So much."

"I know," She nods. "I love you, too."

The storm clouds blow over as Spencer pulls him into an embrace. It's like they'd been living underwater, the pressure caving their insides, but now, they've resurfaced. They've spent these past few weeks walking on eggshells around one another, afraid to confront the elephant in the room, but with a nudge and push, it had actually brought them closer together. Spencer's relieved she and Toby had finally confronted and settled their demons. She knows this will always be a sore subject between them; it may never fully go away. But at least they both know where they stand, now. At least they've got an essence of normalcy back in their relationship. She feels lighter, as though she could prance upon a cloud, and when their embrace ends, she places a loving, reassuring kiss on his lips.

"Do me a favor?" Spencer asks and he nods eagerly. "Delete that video. The last thing I need is you agonizing over it for an eternity."

"Done," He agrees, erasing it from his phone diligently. "Are you hungry? Thirsty? Can I get you anything?"

She shakes her head, smiling warmly. "Everything I need is right here."

Just as they're about to indulge in another kiss, Spencer's phone chimes with a text, but it isn't from the relentless tyrant. It's from Emily and they're close enough to both read her terrified words.

"_S.O.S! LOADS of police and ambulances at the Cavanaughs'. Get here NOW_."


	5. Five

**Hello friends! I hope this fine Wednesday finds you all well. Thank you all for your spectacular, fabulous and amazing feedback on the last chapter! I am so, so glad you enjoyed it. It was rough subject matter but it has to be dealt with, both in this fictional world I've got my hands on and in the show. I'm still not really sure how or why they haven't had the conversation yet, but whatever. There are so many things on my wish list for season 5 and that is merely one of them.  
**

**So here we are with chapter five. I had some interesting guesses as to what could have happened at the Cavanaughs', but only one of you hit the nail right on the head. Hopefully you're not too broken up by what happened- it's the first death, but it certainly isn't the last. Also, don't read too much into the ending. You have to trust me- I've got a plan. ;) Thank you for your continuous amazing support and I hope you enjoy this one!**

* * *

Five

It's been a week since the gruesome discovery of Jenna Marshall's body and the town of Rosewood still has yet to come to terms with the situation. Upon receiving Emily's text, Toby and Spencer flocked to the scene as soon as they possibly could, Spencer sending worried glances Toby's way as his own face remained cool as stone. They hadn't been able to get close enough to the house; the police had bookended the entire property and had lined it in thick yellow caution tape. Hanna, Aria and Emily were in the crowd and Spencer had joined them as Toby pushed closer to his childhood home and fought against the police in order to find the truth. His father waved him in and he spotted his stepmother completely broken down on the sidewalk; then, he saw the coroner. It didn't take a rocket scientist to put two and two together.

She'd been strangled; her parents found her lying peacefully in her bed, as if she could be sleeping. It was only after they removed her glasses that her head lolled to the side and they saw the deep purple bruises and felt the lack of a pulse. There was no sign of forced entry into the Cavanaughs' house; the police assumed whoever murdered her had a key and, of course, their first suspect was none other than her stepbrother. They cited his difficult past with Jenna and played twenty questions until he gave them the very truth- he hadn't been home in weeks. Spencer confirmed his alibi, but it was the last time she'd seen him that night. When the ambulances pulled away and the coroner led Jenna's body out of the house, the police forced everyone to go on home.

The girls spent that night at Emily's and not one of them slept a wink. All four of them had sat upon Emily's bed in suspended silence, their minds a million different places at once. Aria and Hanna could only think about how this is just another mysterious murder, another dead body, another kill most likely attributed to –A. Emily couldn't help but wonder if she'd just looked out the window at the right moment, maybe she might have seen who entered the Cavanaughs' house and maybe, just maybe, she could've prevented Jenna's untimely demise. And Spencer, of course, could think only of Toby; his relationship with Jenna had been rocky from the start and as of late, it had been virtually nonexistent. But she knew this would affect him, somehow; likely, it would shake him to the very core. She wanted to do everything she could to be there for him, but her calls went unanswered and her texts were ignored. Spencer tried not to take it personally; he'd always shied away when he was hurting and she knew when he wanted comfort, he would seek it.

This gloomy Sunday morning, the four girls meet in front of the church along with many, many others from all over the town. It's a sea of black as mourners gather to pay their respects and bid farewell to Jenna Marshall. The girls spot Shana, embracing Jenna's mother as though the two were the best of friends, and they wonder how and when she'd come back to town. She's never been trusting of the girls and she's far too upset over losing Jenna, so they don't bother to ask. Instead, they take a collective deep breath and head up the great stone steps, meeting Toby and his parents at the top. Each of them takes a moment to express their sorrow and when they've been welcomed and thanked, they head into the church. As an afterthought, Toby catches Spencer's arm and nods towards the quieter area beside the church. The others let her go, promising to save her a seat, and the second she and Toby are out of earshot, she pulls him into an embrace.

"Are you okay?" She murmurs into his shoulder. "I called you like a hundred times."

"I know; I'm sorry," Toby says. "I was with my parents 24-7. Apparently planning a funeral is more work than I expected."

She pulls away, but keeps a tight hold on his hands. "How are you doing?"

"Okay, considering," He shrugs. "Better than my parents, for sure."

"Do they know anything else?" Spencer asks gently. "I mean, do they have any leads?"

"There was no murder weapon, no prints, no trace of anyone," He spiels. "And as far as suspects go, they've got nothing. Except, of course, the evil stepbrother."

Spencer frowns. "You were home the whole night; I was with you. They can't still think it's you."

He says nothing more and Spencer realizes, "Oh my god. Your parents blame you."

Toby remains silent and Spencer's worst fears are confirmed. "How _could_ they?"

He kicks at the grass a bit and asks, "Well, isn't it? Isn't it my fault?"

Her heart feels like it's going to explode. She's furious and upset and sympathetic, all in one. Her voice shakes when she asks, "How do you figure?"

"I wanted her dead," Toby admits painfully. "When she first moved in, when she started… doing what she did to me, I wished she were dead hundreds of times. I hated her and I hated myself for not doing anything to stop it. I wished she would die because… because that was the only way I saw a way out. And then I moved out and someone killed her. I wished she would die, but I didn't really want her to. I wouldn't wish that on anyone… But I wasn't home to protect her. I could've stopped whoever it was from doing anything… But I didn't."

"Toby," Spencer says firmly and he lifts his downcast gaze to hers. "She did not deserve to die and especially not like that. I don't want you thinking I'm speaking ill of the dead, but you owe Jenna _nothing_. She took advantage of you for _years_; she manipulated you, she used you and she held her power over you like a tyrant. There is _nothing_ you could've done differently; if you had been there, if you had saved her, it would be you in that casket and we both know it."

He sniffles and she adds, "Your parents are hurting. They're in a really emotional state right now and I'm sure their thoughts are all over the place. But there's no _way_ they really think you're at fault. I'm sure they're just looking for someone to blame."

Toby nods, but asks, "Why does it have to be me?"

If her heart hadn't broken earlier, it certainly did now. She feels an overwhelming sense of pain seep through the cracks of her fractured heart and she once again pulls him into an embrace, whispering, "I don't know. Oh god, I'm so sorry, Toby."

He merely nods, pushing the hair away from her neck to place a soft kiss there instead. The church bell rings from the tower, signaling the beginning of the service and Toby pulls away to ask, "Will you sit with me? Up front?"

Spencer hesitates. "I don't think your parents would like that."

"Please?" He requests. "I want you to. I _need_ you to."

She knows she won't deny him. She can't; she doesn't want to. "Okay."

Toby takes her hand and together they enter the church and make their way down the aisle, towards the illuminated casket at the front. The girls seem to understand when she passes by them and she's pleased; as much allegiance as she has to her best friends, she has an equal amount of loyalty to her boyfriend as well. When they approach and sit in the very first pew, the Cavanaughs don't treat Spencer like an unwelcomed guest and honestly, she's pretty shocked. They glance emptily at her and she expresses her condolences again and they nod curtly before their gazes settle upon their lost daughter. They do, however, shoot her a disapproving look when her phone chimes a moment later. She apologizes profusely and goes to turn it off, but catches the message before she does.

"_Bitch is out of your way for good. You can thank me later- I was only finishing what you started. Kisses, -A_."

She whirls around to find the others in the crowd; they'd gotten the same text. But she can't worry about that now. Because as the preacher begins to bless Jenna's body, the church door opens and in slinks a mysterious woman who looks all too familiar. She's dressed in all black, much like the rest of the mourners, save for the fact that she is wearing a jet-black lace veil hiding her face. Spencer remembers her from Wilden's funeral and catches the girls' attention so they'll notice her too. They react in equal shock; who is this surreptitious Black Widow? What ties does she have to Wilden or Jenna, for that matter? When the service ends, she slips out of sight and try as they might, the girls do not catch her.

"Who is that?" Emily asks in fear. "What was she doing here?"

"She only showed up to Wilden and Jenna's funeral?" Aria speculates. "Does that seem suspicious to anyone else?"

"Are we forgetting the little message we got?" Hanna wonders. "-A thinks she did us a favor in killing Jenna. Do you think that woman sent us those texts?"

"I don't know; maybe," Spencer shrugs. "I'm not ruling anyone out anymore."

"Oh my god," Emily frowns. "We might have just been in the same room as Jenna and Wilden's killer."

"Yeah," Hanna agrees. "First she offs them and then she takes pride in watching them sink into the ground."

Aria says, "A little insensitive, Han."

"Isn't it the truth?"

"She's cryptic, she wouldn't talk to anyone and she's dressed in all black," Spencer states, the only facts they know. But then the cogs turn in her brain and one thing pops into the forefront. Where else had she seen people exactly like this?

"I know that look," Hanna grins. "That's her Velma face. She's figured it out!"

"I didn't figure anything out," Spencer disagrees. "But I do have an idea."

* * *

"I cannot _believe_ we are going back there."

It's the fourth time Hanna's said it since they'd set their plan in motion that morning and, frankly, they're all getting tired of it. Emily asks, "Do you have a better plan?"

"No!" Hanna declines. "But do you remember almost getting sawed in half the last time we were there while Aria performed that disappearing act?"

Aria puts in, "No one let me anywhere _near_ a box. I'm serious."

Spencer rolls her eyes and gets behind the wheel of her SUV, the others piling in after her. After the appearance of the Black Widow at Jenna's funeral, they had been utterly baffled on how to connect the mystery woman to her and Wilden. But going by appearance alone, Spencer had announced that they were going to go to the place where all dark things were kept- Ravenswood. It's the only place she could think of that had people just as eerie and suspicious as the woman in black. Maybe she was following the wrong lead again; after all, her last two trips to Ravenswood had proved to be an absolute bust. But they would never know without trying and at this point, they're grasping at straws. They would take anything they could get.

She senses Hanna's resistance stems from more than just the dangers they'd encountered in Ravenswood a month or so earlier. She still won't talk about it and so the girls still don't know the whole story, but Spencer guesses that Hanna can't stand Ravenswood because it had lured Caleb away from her and spit him back out. In an effort to give Toby privacy to mourn, Caleb had moved out and had found another place to stay, but truly, that's all Spencer knows. She hasn't seen much of either of the boys lately and since Hanna is still insistent upon remaining quiet, she's sure she'll remain in the dark for the rest of eternity.

When they arrive and park on the side of the street, Hanna shivers as she gets out of the car. "I think even the air is different here. It smells like death."

"Is it just me or is everything sort of… grey?" Aria wonders. "I feel like it's sucking my soul out of my body."

"Guys, focus," Spencer chides. "We are here for one reason and that's to get to the bottom of this weird veiled lady."

They continue down the street, unsure of what to do at first, before they spot her. Across the way, Mrs. Grunwald is plucking a bouquet of flowers from a street vendor. Without hesitation, the girls make a beeline for her. She barely glances at them and says, "I knew I hadn't seen the last of you."

"You were right," Spencer states outwardly. "Alison is alive."

The older woman's icy stare snaps to Spencer's face and she hisses, "We do not talk about this here."

She pays for her flowers but doesn't bring them home; instead, she arranges for them to be delivered to an address in Rosewood they all know far too well- the Cavanaughs. She turns on one heel and leads the girls to her great mansion at the end of that rickety road. Her house is enormous and old and could use a proper dusting, but that isn't what they're focused on. Mrs. Grunwald says, "She reached out to you and now she's in danger."

"She was in danger before," Emily corrects. "We all were and it's only gotten worse."

"How did you know about Jenna?" Hanna asks.

Mrs. Grunwald purses her lips. "The entire state knows about Jenna. Killing the blind is just about the worst thing you can do. It brings awful karma; how could anyone murder a poor girl who couldn't see to defend herself?"

The girls agree with their mutual silence. Mrs. Grunwald then asks, "Is there a reason you're here other than to exploit my gift?"

"We don't want to exploit you," Aria shakes her head. "We just want to know what you know."

"Namely," Spencer adds. "About a certain woman we think comes from here. We don't know who she is, but we've only seen her so far at funerals. She's always wearing a black veil."

Mrs. Grunwald gives a curt shake of her head. "I know not of whom you speak."

"What are you talking about?" Hanna blurts out. "She's just as creepy as you are!"

"Hanna!" The other girls exclaim and she's quick to back down.

"Sorry."

"I'm sorry, but I really can't help you," The woman insists. "I don't know anyone who matches that description you've given."

"What do you know?"

"I know that you're in danger and the further you explore the topic, the worse it is going to get," She provides. "I know that there is someone out there, someone so desperate for revenge upon that girl, that they're willing to take down everyone she's wronged just to get to her. This person knows the deaths of these people will remain on Alison's conscience until her dying day. And, if I'm not mistaken, that dying day is rapidly approaching."

"We know this person wants Alison dead; that's why we have to stop them," Aria says. "They tried many times. Nothing's going to stop them from trying again."

"Do you know who it is?" Emily chances.

Mrs. Grunwald pauses and shakes her head. "Alison and this person had crossed paths in the past. They had a complicated, tense history. This person saw something in Alison that wasn't there; she was living in disguise and this person unmasked her. Now this person is living in disguise; they are wearing the mask. And as much as I want to help save her, I just can't see who it is."

"Is it a man or a woman?" Spencer probes.

"Or are they working together?" Hanna implores. "Is there more than one?"

"I don't know," Mrs. Grunwald declines. "I can't sense it. But I stand by my earlier words. This person has entered your lives before- perhaps they're still there. And they've touched you- maybe even more than one of you."

"Touched us?" Hanna exclaims in disgust. "Like, sexually?"

The others shoot her a look and Mrs. Grunwald frowns. "Perhaps. Or maybe this person has impacted your life in other ways; touched you differently. Maybe they've made things difficult for you or they've ruined certain aspects of yourself and your relationship with others."

The girls allow her words to sink in a moment before she says, regretfully, "I must ask you to vacate my property at once. It's time for my afternoon tea."

It's abrupt and as they're on her porch, she bids, "I sincerely do hope that you can get to the bottom and help Alison come home. God knows it's awful to be away from the place where you belong."

"Thank you," Emily nods. "For your help."

"Yes, well, I wish I could have been more helpful," Mrs. Grunwald states, though her eyes say differently. "I fear my powers are weakening, as though my time among the seers is coming to an end."

She turns at once and the girls are left to walk in confusion back to Spencer's car. They know just about as much as they did before they'd gotten here and it's starting to become a frustrating pattern. People wish them luck in helping Alison but no one knows anything, no one is willing to help them reach a conclusion. The first half hour of the drive back to Rosewood is in silence. Not one of the girls is sure what to do or say. Mrs. Grunwald had been just as elusive as the Black Widow herself and nothing she'd said had come as a surprise to any of them. It's back to the drawing board and, frankly, the girls are getting sick and tired of always coming up empty-handed.

"She's lying," Hanna finally says. "She has to know more than she's letting on. I mean she was the _first_ person to see Alison after she was buried alive. Plus she's got that weird mind power. She's probably going to drop pig's blood on us when we're unaware."

"Calm down, Stephen King," Aria shushes her. "I think she might have been telling the truth. What reason would she have to lie about it now? Especially since we know for a fact, now, that Alison isn't really dead."

"Maybe she's trying to save herself," Spencer offers. "Think about all the people who've died recently. Ian, Garrett, Wilden, Jenna… what do they all have in common?"

"Members of the NAT club?" Hanna guesses.

Aria adds, "They all hated us?"

"They all saw Alison the night she disappeared," Spencer answers. "And so did Grunwald. She's got a point; -A's murders have a pattern."

"Oh my god!" Emily gasps suddenly and Spencer nearly stops the car out of concern.

"What?"

"Something Jenna said," Emily replies, putting two and two together. "She came to my house one night and told me she wanted me to apologize to Toby for her. She said… She said all the people who saw Ali the night she went missing are waking up dead. I thought she was being paranoid but now…"

"Now she's dead, too," Aria finishes glumly. "What are we going to do?"

"Um, how about panic?" Hanna suggests. "_We_ saw Ali the night she disappeared. We could be next!"

"Somehow, I doubt that," Spencer disagrees. "I'm not saying we shouldn't be on alert, but something tells me that –A's saving us as a last resort."

If their fearless leader is calm, then the other girls can be, too. Spencer plays bus driver and drops the others off at their respective homes before pulling into her own driveway. Both of her parents are home, she notes, and she has to stop her jaw from hitting the floor. When she enters the kitchen, both of them have a drink in their hands and this only means one thing- they'd lost. Spencer doesn't even ask; she gets relayed the entire court process as if it's supposed to change a thing, as if they've recast Spencer as the judge and she's going to make a different decision to alter the outcome. She offers her sorrow and they tell her dinner will be served when Melissa gets home. Spencer had been informed today that she's on someone's hit list; she certainly isn't in the mood to make small talk over chicken and green beans.

As she heads upstairs, she has every intention of curling into bed and calling Toby to debrief. This is what she almost does, too, until something else catches her eye. Sunlight is gleaming through the open door of Melissa's bedroom and, since she isn't home, Spencer decides to snoop just a little. It's neat as a pin, akin to Melissa's OCD tendencies and Spencer wishes they didn't share that quality, because she knows it'll be even harder to make it look, after, like she'd never been there. She doesn't have to poke too far; there's a dress box on her bed and Spencer wonders what secret admirer is sending her sister a gift, this time. She carefully unties the silk ribbon and it comes away in pieces in her hands. Lifting the top, there's a folded sheet of tissue paper and when she pulls back the thin material, her eyes grow as big as saucers.

For it isn't the elegant black dress that's caught Spencer's attention. It's what's on top of it- a lacy, jet-black veil.


	6. Six

**Good morning, good morning! I hope you're doing well today! I have a long day of work with the kiddies today (which includes swimming and I'm not really looking forward to it, because swimming just asks for trouble). But before I get myself involved in that madness, I thought I'd hop on over here and update for you. I only have four chapters left to write, as previously stated, and I'm hoping (hoping being the key word here) to finish them this weekend. Let's see how that goes.**

**Thank you all for your reviews and continued support through the last chapter. Also thank you all for not freaking out too much about Melissa's big reveal. I've said it before and I'll say it again- I have a plan. Trust me. You know who you shouldn't trust? -A. If Toby's done taking leads about his mom and -A's done sending them, then how did he get another at the end of this chapter? Or, maybe the question should be, who sent it? ;) Alright bye guys, see you soon!**

* * *

Six

"What are you doing?"

Spencer whirls around, trepidation spilling from her eyes, and finds her sister standing in the doorway. She's not sure how long she's been sitting here, staring at the black veil in Melissa's possession, but she knows she's officially been busted. Everything is starting to fall into place and Spencer wishes she could stop her mind from drawing conclusions, from working in overdrive, but there's too much evidence against her sister to stop now. She's always been the first to defend Melissa from the girls, but she knows that if she mentions Melissa is the mysterious Black Widow, her sister's guiltiness is only going to be harder to ignore.

Melissa's waiting for an answer, her arms tightly bound to her chest, fury on her face. "Why are you in my room, going through my things? What business do you have in here?"

Spencer scrambles from the bed, suddenly painfully aware of her own transgressions and, more importantly, her sister's. "I don't… I just… I saw the box and-"

"And what?" Melissa snarls, snatching the dress box and the uncovered veil away. "You thought I was hiding the murder weapon in here? You thought you'd bust me? Catch me in the act?"

"No, I…" Spencer searches for words as Melissa's anger only grows. "I saw the box and I was curious and-"

"So you decided to let the cat out of the bag?" Melissa fills in. "You know that other saying about the cat, don't you, Spencer?"

Spencer backs away from her sister, not liking where this is going. "Yeah? You going to finish me off like you did Jenna and Wilden?"

"I never went _near_ Jenna and Wilden," Melissa disagrees. "And this is none of your business and if you would just stay out of it-"

"I can't stay out of it! I'm involved!" Spencer shouts back. "We saw you at their funerals. We watched you slip in, ignore everyone and slip back out. You thought no one noticed you, but we did. We _all_ did. Did you come to make sure they were really dead? That they were out of your way?"

"They were never _in_ my way," Melissa growls. "Unlike you, I'm trying not to get involved in this mess you and your friends made for yourself. If you were anything like me, if you were _smart_, you'd get the hell out of this town, too."

"But you are involved, Melissa!" Spencer exclaims exasperatedly. "How else would you know that CeCe didn't kill Wilden unless you were there? How else would you know that? Is it because you did it yourself? And why didn't you take this to the police?"

"When was the last time the police got _anything_ right?" Melissa replies. "If they knew what they were doing, a simple DNA test on that body they found would tell that it wasn't Alison in that grave. They would _know_ she's still alive."

"What are you saying?" Spencer asks hesitantly.

"I'm saying she's got someone on the inside," Melissa says as though it's obvious. "Someone's covering for her. Someone on that police force, someone who investigated her murder, knew all along that she wasn't really dead, but they went out of their way to make it look like she was."

Spencer takes a minute to process. Going out of the way to cover something up and creating an elaborate lie to blanket the truth; who does that sound like? "You think it was Wilden?"

"I don't think he's smart enough to do it on his own," Melissa shakes her head. "I can almost guarantee you he had help."

"But why?" Spencer wonders. "Why go through all of that trouble to fake a death and then pretend to investigate it? Wilden was crooked; we all know that. Are you saying he was on our side?"

"No," Melissa disagrees. "He had his own side. But I think he was protecting her from someone worse. And that someone… wanted him dead."

"Everyone wanted him dead," Spencer corrects. "No one was broken up about his death. Least of all you and weren't you two friends?"

"In a simpler time, sure," Melissa nods. "You'd be surprised by the capacity people have to change. You think you know someone and then they do something that's completely… unexpected."

She stuffs the dress and veil back into the box, then loads it into a shopping bag and shoves it into the bowels of her closet. Spencer watches this, alarmed, and Melissa turns to her, warning, "Don't tell your friends about this. If anyone asks, you know nothing."

"Melissa-"

"_Spencer_," Melissa hisses her name, a vicious threat. "Don't."

"We're trying to figure this out Melissa," Spencer implores. "What am I supposed to say if they ask?"

"Do what you do best," Melissa replies, a wicked smile adorning her face. "Lie."

* * *

The next morning is a Tuesday and for some reason, Tuesdays had never been good days for Hanna. They're even worse, now, that Caleb's back, because he has a free period the same time she does and though at the beginning of the year, she would have welcomed this, now, it's not so much fun. Now, she spends most of the period alternately trying to avoid him and wishing he would talk to her. She's conflicted; of course she's missed him and of course she still has feelings for him. But she can't forgive him that easily; she won't. He'd put her through unnecessary anguish and he _still_ won't tell her everything that had happened in Ravenswood, which means it had been torturous and she's better off not knowing.

She goes to the library to avoid him today because she's been falling behind on her assignments and because she knows he won't think to look there. She's got a paper due by the end of the week and she doesn't know the difference between C.S. Lewis and T.S. Eliot, so she's got a lot of work to do. Halfway through, she's already stuck and so she stands and makes her way through the many aisles of books in search of a frame of reference. When she rounds the corner into another one, Caleb's at the end of the aisle and Hanna curses under her breath, sure karma had thrown him in her way. Desperate to avoid him, she turns around, but a librarian had entered the aisle with a book return cart and had begun restocking the shelves. There's no other way out; she's trapped.

When he looks over at her, he smiles and Hanna's mouth twists in the opposite direction. "I don't think I've ever seen you in the library."

"Yeah, well," Hanna exhales impatiently. "Death threats by text aren't going to make my English paper go away, so here I am."

"Death threats? Again?" Caleb asks. "Are you alright?"

Hanna motions towards her very much intact body and shoots back, "Do I look dead to you?"

He frowns. "I didn't mean physically."

She sighs. "I know."

Hanna teeters on the edge for a moment, wondering whether she should disclose information with him or continue to keep him in the dark. To be quite honest, it would be nice to have someone other than the girls to turn to when times get rough. She's not sure she wants to rekindle their festering romance, but it wouldn't hurt to have another friend. She knows Caleb cares about her; Dr. Sullivan had called her relationship with the three girls codependent and perhaps she's right. Maybe it would benefit Hanna in the long run if she reached out to someone who didn't know absolutely everything about their tremulous situation at hand.

She asks, "Can I tell you something? You have to promise not to tell anyone else. People are starting to wonder but… Nothing's confirmed, at least publicly."

"Yeah," Caleb nods eagerly. "You can tell me anything, Han."

"Alison is alive," Hanna whispers, almost too low to hear. "And this time, it's real. We didn't dream it, Caleb. She was never really gone."

"So she watched you and the others get tortured for a year and a half," Caleb seethes. "And did _nothing _about it?"

"What was she supposed to do?" Hanna defends. "-A is the reason she's gone and –A is the reason she can't come back."

"Does anyone want her back?" Caleb asks and at Hanna's indignant look, he backpedals, "Look, I know she's your friend. You care about her. I get that. But did you ever think that maybe, by leaving, she's making you pay for her mistakes?"

"Yes," Hanna admits. "I think about that all the time. I don't want her to come back, Caleb, because everything's going to change. She'll ruin everything. But I _need_ her to come back. We all do."

He looks perplexed. "Why?"

"Because when she disappeared, the four of us went to the top of the suspect list and since then, our lives have been _hell_," Hanna explains. "Spencer's our leader now, right? She always clashed with Ali; she's the only one who ever stood up to her. So obviously, Spencer's the one who killed Alison, because she wanted to be in charge. Alison was with Aria when she found out firsthand that her father was cheating on her mother and Ali threatened to tell Mrs. Montgomery if Aria didn't do it first. So obviously Aria killed Alison to keep her quiet. Emily was in love with her, but Alison shut her down, knew her secret and teased her for it, so obviously Emily killed her out of pain and revenge."

"And me? I was _no one_ without Ali," Hanna continues. "But the second she was gone, I became the new blonde it-girl. Clearly, I killed Alison to take her place."

"That's stupid," Caleb shakes his head and Hanna scoffs.

"No it's not. This is exactly why the police suspected us," Hanna tells him. "It's what they thought of us; it's what they _still_ think of us. And so I need Alison to come back. I need her to come back and tell everyone that she's still here, that we did _nothing_. Because when she left, she might have made things better for herself, even if it was only for a little while, but she made things _so much worse_ for us. Life with Ali wasn't great, but life without… hasn't exactly been a picnic, either. I need her back, Caleb, so she can change what people think of us. Because right now, we're still the four girls covering up our friend's murder, but the only thing we're _really _guilty of is lying for her one too many times."

Hanna's irascibly angry; with Alison, with Caleb, with herself. She's not sure where she's been storing all of this pent up aggression, but it's gone, now. Everything she's been feeling since learning her dead friend was still very much alive has all culminated in the latest of her irritated rants. Unfortunately, Caleb had bore the brunt of it, but in all honesty, he is part of the cause. She takes a deep breath now that she's finished and feels a bit better, although she's not sure if she'll ever feel herself again. Caleb doesn't say anything else, but he knows her and he knows what she needs. She shouldn't be shocked by what comes next, but yet, she still is. He steps forward and pulls her into an embrace.

She wants to fight back. She wants to push him away. She wants to yell some more, because she hasn't forgiven him yet and listening to her rant isn't going to do that.

But she doesn't do any of these things. No one's hugged her lately but the girls and somehow, their comfort just doesn't hold a candle to his.

* * *

When Emily receives a text from Alison asking to meet at the Kissing Rock, she almost doesn't go. After all, the last time she'd been in this very situation, it had been a colossal waste of her time. She'd gone with a naïve sense of hope and had waited and waited with no end result. But she does go, because even after all this time, even after Alison had stood her up, even though she'd always been there for Alison and Alison had always let her down, Emily still believes the best in her friend. She's a positively thinking human being and she always has been. Her intentions are always pure and she can't always grasp how someone else's might not be. It is, she's sure, why –A has labeled her as the weakest link. The girls are always able to compartmentalize their feelings and Emily is not yet proficient at that skill.

She waits a good forty-five minutes before Alison shows up, twigs snapping and leaves rustling beneath her. Emily greets her with a hug. "I can't believe you actually came."

"I'm sorry about last time," Alison laments. "I wanted to come but I couldn't get here. It wasn't safe."

Emily pulls away. "It's not safe now either."

Alison shakes her head, agreeing, and Emily asks, "How did you get away?"

"I climbed," Alison shrugs, as if evading authorities were the easiest task in the world. "It's going to take more than a couple of rookie cops to keep me away. I've been sneaking around since I could walk."

Emily doesn't doubt that. "So… why did you only want to meet with me?"

"The other girls don't get me like you do," Alison says. "I've told you that before."

"They still love you," Emily points out and Alison smiles, but there's no mirth in it.

"I don't know," She says instead. "I'm beginning to question that. Aren't you?"

"You don't trust them," Emily probes, but it's more of a statement than a question.

"Should I?" Alison sinks onto the rock. "I don't trust anyone. Except for you."

"And Shana," Emily adds. "And Noel Kahn. Who else knows you're still alive?"

"Just them," Alison confirms and then adds, full of snarky charm, "And whoever you told."

Emily can tell this is a dig at Paige. She knows Alison too well to be fooled by the thin veil of cheeky sarcasm. But she isn't here to talk about Paige. She's here for answers. "Why Noel?"

"Why Paige?" Alison counters, bringing it right back. "I could tell you stories about her that would make your skin crawl."

"I'm not interested in that," Emily declines. "You didn't answer my question."

"You didn't answer mine," Alison replies smartly. "There are plenty of other rainbow fish in the sea, Em, and you had to go for the one who nearly drowned you?"

"We connect well," Emily says. "We have a lot in common. She's always been there for me in ways you never were. Paige makes me happy and I love her."

Alison eyes her skeptically. "Even now?"

"Yes," Emily declares. "Even now."

Alison's silent a moment before chuckling. "Well, that's admirable, I suppose. I'm certainly not giving my blessing-"

"I'm certainly not asking for it," Emily retorts and Alison smirks.

"Wow, that's quite the attitude," She grins. "You've been spending too much time with Spencer."

"What is your problem with her?" Emily asks. "She's the reason we know as much as we do and why we're as close as we are to figuring this thing out. You owe it to her."

"I don't have a problem with Spencer," Alison disagrees. "I love her like a sister and she practically is. But you must know by now that the Hastings' are not a family you want to mess with."

"Spencer's not like that," Emily shakes her head. "She thinks you hate her. That you don't trust her."

"I told you, I don't trust anyone," Alison says. "This is who I am, now. This is what –A made me. She did it to all of you; made you into things you aren't. Made you do things you normally wouldn't. And even when this is over, if it ever ends, you can't get it back. Trust me, I've tried."

Emily looks at the beautiful blonde girl before her and she knows it's Alison DiLaurentis, but somehow, it doesn't feel like it. Gone is the girl who once spoke in riddles, who schemed and dreamed and painted brilliant pictures of one day leaving Rosewood for good. Gone is the sparkle from her luminous blue eyes and the merriment in her every smile, delighting in juicy gossip and everyday mischief. She isn't that girl anymore; she isn't the Alison Emily had known all her life. Now, she's tired. She's bruised and broken and worn down. Alison had been forced into a cocoon of darkness and fear and exited not a majestic butterfly, but as a hollow shell of the person she once was.

She had poked and prodded and taunted the people of Rosewood relentlessly and when –A had given her dose after dose of her own medicine, the bitter taste had all but poisoned her.

* * *

Armed with a bag of take-out, Spencer ascends the stairs behind The Brew and raps on the door, unable to reach her key beneath all of the food. She's not sure if Toby's eaten or not; she's not even sure if he's home. In fact, she isn't sure of much these days; she hasn't seen Toby since the funeral two days earlier, and the only communication she's had with him is a handful of texts and one very short phone call Sunday night. Truthfully, she misses him. She hopes he's coping well with Jenna's death, but she fears the worst. And thus, even though it's a Tuesday night and she has a Physics test tomorrow and she's supposed to be studying with Andrew, she's blown all of it off. Toby has to be her first priority; she doesn't put him first often enough.

He opens the door a moment later and eyes her questioningly. "Hi."

"Hey. Please tell me you haven't eaten yet," She elicits. "I bought enough food for a small army."

"Italian?" He asks hopefully and she grins.

"Yeah, always."

He grins too and nods her in, shutting the door behind her. As he follows her into the kitchen, she begins unloading the many boxes of food and he smirks, "You weren't kidding about the small army, were you?"

"I didn't know what you were in the mood for," Spencer shrugs. "So I just kind of got everything? There's pesto and alfredo and lasagna and spaghetti and meatballs. Oh, and breadsticks, of course. There might be a salad, too, somewhere. You'll have enough leftovers for a week, at least."

Toby chuckles. "I definitely don't need all of this food."

"Well, now you won't have to cook for a while," Spencer says. "In case you're swamped with work or… with other things."

He nods. "I knew you had an ulterior motive in coming here."

She defends, "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I am," He deflects. "Let's eat."

There is very little conversation between them as they do have dinner, mostly because Toby is trying and failing to pretend nothing's bothering him and Spencer is trying and failing to come up with a way to broach the subject gently. It's a complicated situation; it's no secret that Toby and Jenna had not been the best of friends and they certainly weren't close stepsiblings. But how else was he supposed to feel when someone related to him, by birth or by marriage, is murdered? Spencer doesn't know what to expect; she knows he isn't going to grieve, break down in tears, or express angry outbursts. But she wants to be there for him regardless. After all, he'd been there for her when she'd needed him. She wants nothing more than to reciprocate.

When they finish eating, they load the dishwasher and pack the leftovers and throw away the plastic containers. There's nothing else left but the elephant in the room. Spencer draws in a deep breath and starts, "Toby-"

He scrubs a hand over his face, "Spencer, I don't know what you want me to say."

"You don't have to say anything," She tells him. "I don't know what you're feeling, but I just want you know that I'm here for you, okay?"

"I know," He says. "I know you are and I'm not trying to shut you out. I've just been… I'm just trying to lay low for a while."

Spencer's eyebrows furrow. "Why?"

"I'm not this town's favorite person," Toby says. "And ever since Jenna… Let's just say it's brought back some not so fun memories."

"It wasn't you," Spencer pleads desperately. "They have to know that. They can't still think you're guilty."

"They don't. I'm not even a suspect. And you were right about my parents; they were just upset," Toby explains. "But just because the police cleared me, doesn't mean the people of Rosewood are as generous. The police may have changed their minds, but the town didn't change theirs."

"I'm sorry," Spencer laments. "Toby, they have no idea how wrong they are about you. You're not going to go through it alone, this time."

"I know," He smiles. "I've said it before- you are the only reason I'm still here."

She frowns and at first, he doesn't know why. "I don't want you to stay here and suffer under their scrutiny because of me. You've always wanted to leave Rosewood and I don't blame you. Maybe… Maybe you should."

He disagrees and kisses her forehead. "I'm not going anywhere unless you're coming with me."

The answer pleases her so much, she launches herself into his arms and feels his encircle her frame just as tightly. Just the thought of what he's suggested makes her heart constrict; leaving Rosewood together, side by side, hand in hand. She feels bad almost immediately, though, when she realizes she's come here tonight to comfort him and yet here he is, performing that very duty instead. So she murmurs, "Are you sure you're alright?"

"Well, no," He admits, entangling a hand in her hair to keep her close. "Out of the three of us, I'm taking it the best, by far. But Jenna's gone. She's just gone and she's not coming back this time."

She nods and reluctantly pulls herself from his grasp, sensing there's more. "But?"

"But," He sighs. "I must be a terrible person. I must be, because she's gone and I feel… free. The first thing I felt after I heard about her death, after the shock and the horror went away, was relief. It makes me sick that I can even think that about someone who's died but I did. I was almost _glad_. It's complicated, I know, and maybe I should start talking to my therapist again, but… Now that she's gone, I just feel free."

"And the worst part is," Toby goes on. "I think she's free too. Jenna came to Rosewood and immediately landed on Alison's hit list. She was maimed and tortured just as much as the rest of us were, if not even more. She was imprisoned in secrets, in lies, in a false identity and I think… I think the deeper she got into this, the more she feared everybody, the further she got from who she really was. But it's over for her. She's gone and she doesn't have to put up with this anymore. I'm not saying she deserved it… But now, she's at peace."

Spencer's quiet at first because she hadn't quite expected him to feel this way. She doesn't think he's a terrible person; she never could. But she's shocked at how well he's taking Jenna's passing. She doesn't get too much time to dwell. His phone buzzes and she watches his bright blue eyes scan the message before widening considerably. He turns the screen in her direction and Spencer hopes it isn't another piece of tragedy from their falling out months earlier. Thankfully, it isn't. It's a blurry picture beneath a message that reads, "_I just can't quit you, baby. Here's another puzzle piece, but don't ask to see the box. Kisses, -A_."

Spencer makes the picture larger and tries to read the name on top of the file. "I can't… I can't see what this says."

"It looks like a manila folder, maybe?" Toby suggests. "A patient's file. Maybe it's my mom's."

"It was signed by Dr. Palmer," Spencer points out. "See his signature down here?"

"Yeah, but I can't read the name," Toby frowns.

Spencer forwards the message to her own phone and hands his back to him. He continues to study the photo as she strains to read the blurred name. "It starts out S-O-R-E, but I can't… I think it might be an N? N… Is this another S? I can't tell if it ends O N or O M…"

Toby's gone still. "Spencer."

"Sorenson," Spencer concludes. "Does that name sound familiar to you?"

He's still quiet. She asks, "Toby? Are you okay?"

"Dr. Palmer made notes at the bottom, did you see?" Toby implores, showing proof. "I don't know who this is, but whoever it is, they're not to be messed with."

Spencer glances at the image on the phone and her eyes fall upon the dark red circle at the bottom of the page. Inside, a capitalized message- DANGEROUS! SEVERELY DERANGED!


	7. Seven

**Good morning friends! I hope this weekend was kinder to you than it was to me. I got literally no writing done, which sucks. On Saturday, I was getting my grandparents' house ready because they're coming up from Florida for the summer today. But yesterday's the real kicker- home with the stomach bug and a fever because the worst part about working with kids is that you get all their diseases. Blegh. Anyway, I had to call in to work today because of the fever, but I'm feeling better so hopefully I can maybe get something done today? We shall see.**

**I'm sure you didn't need my excuses. You probably didn't even read them but that's okay. Here's chapter seven- I hope you enjoy it. Review and tell whether you did or didn't? It'll make my day. ;) Thanks for all your feedback and commentary and such on the last chapter. I'm so glad you liked it. Honestly. I'm never sure what's going to go over well and what isn't. So yeah. I'm out but thank you and enjoy!**

* * *

Seven

Toby does not recognize the name and Spencer can't say she does either, so they search the ends of the Internet for anyone named Sorenson. They get nowhere. They search, then, for the name Sorenson in connection with Radley. Still, they are met with nothing. They're forced to throw in the towel for the evening and Spencer has barely any time to look over her physics notes before she calls it a night. Morning comes and the test is placed before her. Spencer draws a blank. She's pretty sure she's failed the exam as they all exit the classroom and has to ignore Andrew's shit-eating grin. It's fine. He'll end up number one in the class and get to make the valedictorian speech, but at least, if her efforts are rewarded, whomever it is that keeps torturing her and her friends will stop trying to kill her. That's got to count for something, right?

At lunch, Spencer brings the news to the girls. She's not sure they can be of much help, but she and Toby have already drawn too many blanks. Spencer needs another mystery to solve like she needs a hole in the head, but this one's different. It always has been. She loves Toby more than she ever thought she could love anyone and watching him suffer over this, agonize over the possible outcomes and continuously come up short has been an absolutely trying process. She wants to do anything she can to ease his pain. After all, his pain had always broken her more than her own ever could. Clearly, if –A is going through this much trouble to get a rise out of him, the answers Toby is hungry for are far juicier than she could have ever imagined.

"Sorenson," Emily says, trying the name on for size. "No, I've never heard that before."

"I had a counselor at fat camp with that last name," Hanna offers. "Her name was Ingrid and she got fired for sneaking snacks in from outside the camp. They said she wasn't setting a good example for us."

"Strange, but not insane," Spencer comments. "Dr. Palmer says that this person is dangerous and severely deranged."

"The name sounds really familiar," Aria replies. "But I can't quite place a finger on it."

"Well, try, okay?" Spencer prods. "I just want to figure this out so I can have one thing off of my plate and Toby can have some peace for once."

"How is he?" Emily asks. "I called him a couple days ago. He hasn't called me back."

"He's fine, I guess," Spencer shrugs. "He's taking it better than I thought."

"Well, I don't think he's going to miss her, do you?" Hanna probes. "I mean, she basically molested him."

"She raped him," Spencer corrects, frowning. "There's a difference."

"Wait, Spence, do you have your laptop with you?" Aria asks suddenly, sitting straight up.

Spencer notes the urgency in her friend's tone and nods, handing it over. "Yeah."

Aria says nothing more, but opens a fresh browser and types in the web address for Hollis College. She goes to the English department website and searches through the pages of faculty and staff until she gets to the section for teaching assistants. Scanning through the list of names, she finally finds the one she recognizes. There, before the girls, is the reason why the name had sounded so familiar to her- Meredith Sorenson. Aria turns the screen towards the others, her eyes wide, and the other four are immediately alarmed. Meredith hadn't been present in their lives long, but she'd made a hell of an impression while she had.

Hanna asks, "Isn't that the girl your dad cheated with?"

"More importantly," Emily adds. "Isn't she the one who drugged you and locked you in your own basement?"

"The very same," Aria confirms. "Spence, I think this is your girl."

"I need to find out for sure," Spencer says. "Is she still here? In town?"

"No, she kind of skipped town when my dad called the police," Aria replies. "No one's seen or heard from her since and I'd kind of like to keep it that way. She tried to kill me."

"Yeah, well she may have killed Toby's mom," Spencer states. "And I'm going to find out the truth."

"How are you going to do that?"

"You're going to ask your dad for me," Spencer answers easily. "I need to know what he knows about Meredith's mental history."

Aria pulls a face. "Fine. But you're coming with me."

"Why?" Spencer implores. "You're afraid of your dad now?"

"No," She disagrees. "But he doesn't like when I bring up Meredith and he's less likely to blow up if you're there too."

Spencer agrees to accompany Aria home and when school lets out later that afternoon, they head straight to the Montgomerys' residence. Byron's nowhere to be found and Mike gives the girls some kind of half-assed excuse about meeting up with friends before bounding out the door. So they wait; the home is large and empty and solemn. Spencer can remember a time when it wasn't; as kids, she and the others used to run around these big empty hallways and make the most of all the space. But things hadn't been the same since the Montgomerys moved back from Iceland. Ella had moved out, Byron had moved on and the kids were stuck in limbo. Spencer knows her own family is ten kinds of screwed up, but at least they're not in purgatory.

When Byron does come shuffling through the door hours later, it's with a pizza box and a load of apologies. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, my meeting ran late. Oh, hi Spencer."

"Hi, Mr. Montgomery," She greets cordially.

"You're welcome to stay for dinner. There's plenty of pizza," Byron offers and Spencer issues a thank you. "Where's Mike?"

"Um, I don't know," Aria answers. "He left soon after we got home. Said something about meeting friends?"

"Oh, again?" Byron frowns. "Looks like he's trading us in for the newer model."

"Dysfunction junction, like mom said," Aria tries a joke on for size, but it doesn't quite fit. "Looks like it's just the two of us again."

"Well I'll gladly take you up on the pizza offer," Spencer says in an effort to diffuse the tension. "My dad's in New York, my mom's in L.A. and the extension of Melissa's cooking knowledge is cereal and if you're really lucky, only slightly burned toast."

Aria grins and Byron chuckles. "Well, the more the merrier. I'll grab plates. Aria, drinks?"

It is a little strange; Spencer knows firsthand what stilted dinner conversation looks like. After all, when the Hastings' sit down to dine, their conversation always includes some form of one-upping the other. It's never polite; they're story toppers, her parents and sister are. She tries mostly to keep to herself because she's learned, over the years, to bite her tongue. Her parents' issues in the courtroom and her sister's tales of internships and ogling boys pale in comparison to Spencer's problems for sure. But she doesn't talk about them; she can't. And her parents never ask. Instead, they have tense dinners and leave before dessert. Spencer knows this isn't what normal families look like and she'd always assumed the grass was greener elsewhere.

But sitting here with one of her best friends, she knows it isn't. The conversation between Byron and Aria is awkward to say the very least. Spencer realizes then and there that she doesn't really know much about what happened to disband the Montgomerys. She knows the logistics, of course, but over the past year and a half, whenever Aria opened her mouth, it was never news about her family that poured out. It was always about Ezra. Spencer has to wonder whether Ezra did more harm than good, if he only served to drive the wedge further between Aria's already feuding parents. She lets them converse and puts in a few different comments here and there, but mostly she just observes and learns that every family has their crosses to bear.

As Byron begins to tidy the kitchen following the end of their meal, Aria begins to broach the subject at hand. "Dad, we actually had a few questions we wanted to ask you."

"Okay, shoot," Byron says. "I'll do what I can to answer to the best of my ability."

"Don't be so quick to agree," Aria warns. "We have questions about Meredith."

Byron stills his actions momentarily, but quickly continues rinsing out their glasses in the sink. "Okay. What about Meredith?"

"We have reason to believe she might be really dangerous," Spencer says. "And we were wondering what you know about her mental state."

"Well," Byron sighs. "She isn't very mentally stable, I know that. When I talked to her parents, they'd mentioned she'd had a history of mental illness."

"What did she suffer from?" Aria asks. "Was she medicated?"

"I'm not sure," Byron answers. "They didn't go into detail."

"Do you know if she was ever institutionalized?" Spencer then questions. "Possibly at Radley Sanitarium?"

Byron shakes his head. "I don't know. I really don't. Why the sudden interest in Meredith?"

"Like I said," Spencer repeats. "We heard she's dangerous."

"Yeah and we don't want her to hurt anyone else," Aria adds.

Byron nods. "Well, I don't think you have to worry about that. I'm sure wherever she is, she's getting the help she needs."

The girls are not as confident.

* * *

On Thursday morning, Spencer wakes up and a hatches a brand new idea. Byron had gotten her nowhere and Radley's records are, of course, not open to the public. She still has the override codes, but being at Radley during the night had not really been her cup of tea and nighttime is the only time she could easily sneak in and out. When she and Toby done so earlier, ever in search of answers about his mother, she had done all she could to keep her composure for him, but inside, she was screaming. Inside, she'd seen his bloody, battered body slumped in the woods. Inside, people were calling her Jane Doe and Mona was there, telling her she was just as sane as the devil herself. Inside, her walls were crumbling and a teeny, tiny voice was telling her, _Stay a while, Spencer. You belong here_.

No, she doesn't want to go back at night. She can't. But she can go back during the day; after all, she'd done that, too, when she'd paid a visit to Eddie Lamb. She'd been fine; she'd handled it well. Her insides might've screamed just a tad, but she'd shut them up quite effectively and she hadn't lost her cool. Radley seems to be the end-all, be-all of issues in this town and Spencer should have known that sooner or later, she would end up with another reason to go back. She's just hoping and praying with everything she has that she never has to go back as a patient. Even still, she knows it isn't ruled out as a possibility.

Thursday passes in a long, slow blur of activity. She gets a seventy-two on her physics exam and it isn't technically failing, but in her eyes, it certainly is. Andrew teasingly asks if she'd like a tutor and Spencer's not sure if he's asking out of genuine friendship or if he's hinting at wanting a relationship, like last time. She also wonders where all of the attention came from; no one had bothered to glance her way before she started dating Toby. Ever since, it's like every guy she considers a friend now considers her to be the one who got away. She doesn't have time for that; she shoots back some sarcastic comment to Andrew and makes it through the rest of the day, somehow, and when she exits the school, she notes that infamous tan truck and frowns, feeling like a disappointment once again. They'd made plans to go to dinner and a movie that evening because, embarrassingly, in the year and a half they'd been dating, they'd never been on a proper date. But the moment she gets into the passenger seat, she knows he can tell by the look on her face that she's going to cancel on him yet again.

"Let me guess," He deadpans. "You're sleuthing with the girls tonight and blowing me off."

"No, I'm actually sleuthing with you," Spencer promises. "Do you have plans tonight?"

"Yeah, with you, remember?" Toby reminds her. "Dinner? Movie? Alone time? Any of this ringing a bell?"

"I'm sorry, but this is really important and we'll have to take a rain check. We can go tomorrow," Spencer pleads. "We have to go to Radley. Like, now."

Toby frowns. "Why?"

"Because," Spencer takes a deep breath. "I figured out who Sorenson is. And I think she might've killed your mom."

Toby's quiet a beat or two before turning the key in the ignition, the engine rumbling to life. Spencer takes his silence to mean the worst and says, "If you don't want to go, we don't have to. Believe me, I'd much rather go on the date. I just thought that-"

"No, let's go," Toby shakes his head, pulling out of the parking lot. "I want to know. We've come this far, right?"

She nods and they're on their way. The ride to the sanitarium is so silent, Spencer can hear a fly land on the window beside her. She can hear the faint whistle of the wind through the tiny crack in the window. She can hear her irregular heartbeat, the way it palpitates when she's nervous or scared, and she can feel it banging against the cage of her chest. She can't tell if Toby's mad at her; that's the one infuriating thing about him. All of his feelings are always so sincere, but they're almost identical. He could be scared, he could be frustrated, he could be angry with her, or he could be nervous; he could be all four, he could be none of the above. But Spencer, after all this time, still can't tell the difference. He reacts the same; he holds it in, he bottles it up, and then he's a ticking time bomb. Then, he explodes. She doesn't want to get hit by the shrapnel, this time. So, when they arrive and park and receive visitor's badges, she decides to just hit the problem straight on.

"Toby," She stops him, grasping his arm. "I know you're mad that I ruined another date, and I'm sorry, but-"

"I'm not mad at you," He halts her apology. "I'm impressed that you managed to get an answer out of a blurry photo and I really appreciate that you're helping me figure this out."

She softens. "Well, of course. Why wouldn't I?"

He shrugs. "I'm not mad. I don't know what to feel right now, you know? Am I about to find out what really happened to my mom? Am I going to get _real_ answers?"

"Do you want them?" Spencer asks. "I think that's what we really need to figure out before we go through those doors. Do you really want to know exactly what happened that night or can you live with the blissful ignorance? I highly doubt that whatever he's going to say is going to be something you want to hear. Likely, it'll take you back to a not so pleasant time and I'll support your decision either way, but you need to figure out if it's really, truly worth it."

"Whatever the outcome, I deserve to know what really happened to her," Toby remains firm. "I _need_ to know."

"Okay," Spencer nods. "Then let's go."

The moment they're through the doors of the psych ward, a piercing scream emanates from down the hall. Three orderlies in white rush off in the direction of the sound and Toby and Spencer share a look filled with trepidation. When they reach the recreation room, a girl is in the corner, talking to herself, and a man is playing the piano, but he's only playing chords; long, droning ones, at that. At a table nearby, a handful of elder patients are downing medicine and the nurse handing them out checks beneath their tongues to be sure they've swallowed the pills. A man on the couch is eating playing cards, a woman by the window is sitting, catatonic, and another is at a table by herself, playing Connect Four with only the black checkers, muttering incoherently. Spencer takes a few calming breaths and there's an unparalleled horror in Toby's eyes. She's sure he's picturing his mother here and maybe, just maybe, he's picturing his girlfriend as well.

Spencer spots Eddie a few feet away and waits until he hands a board game to a more lucid patient before approaching him. The color drains from Eddie's face at the sight of the couple, as if he'd expected and dreaded their arrival. "Spencer. What are you doing here?"

"It's good seeing you, too, Eddie," Spencer replies and motions beside her. "This is my boyfriend, Toby."

Toby nods and shakes the man's hand. "We've met before."

"What a coincidence," Spencer deadpans. "It was the same Toby, after all."

"I'm about to go on break. Give me five minutes," Eddie asks and turns away from the couple. Neither of them moves. Time passes slowly when the only thing to do is watch patients cry or eat their own hair. When Eddie turns back to them, he easily leads them away. "Believe it or not, you actually caught us on a good day."

"I'd hate to see a bad day, then," Spencer replies sarcastically. "We've come with questions."

"Spencer," Eddie sighs. "I told you last time, I can't disclose information to you. I'll lose my job."

"I'm not asking for my mother's medical records or for a play-by-play of what happened that night," Toby puts in. "I just want to know one thing."

Spencer pulls out the photo of Meredith and Eddie's eyes flick towards it. Toby asks, "Is she the one? Was she on the roof that night? Did she… Did she push her?"

"I can't say who it was. That situation is top secret and highly private and if it ever got out, you can kiss this entire hospital goodbye," Eddie says.

"Maybe we should," Spencer suggests. "This place has caused people nothing but harm."

"What can you tell me?" Toby then asks. "Please Eddie, I just… I need to know."

"I recognize her," Eddie admits. "Meredith, right? Meredith Sorenson?"

"So she was a patient here," Spencer concludes. "Was she violent?"

"You didn't hear it from me," Eddie prefaces. "But I remember that blonde hair. You can't forget a feature like that. In fact, after that girl went missing a few years ago, I thought maybe it was Meredith. But they released the name and the age… It didn't add up."

"Did she escape from Radley?" Spencer probes. "Is that why everyone's trying to cover it up? A vicious killer escaping a sanitarium; it makes sense."

"No, she was released in December of 2007," Eddie explains. "She was deranged, but she was fragile and her family wanted her moved to a more private facility."

"My mom died in October that year," Toby comments. "She's the one, isn't she? The one who killed her? And you released her… You released her to cover it up."

"Hey, I didn't release anyone," Eddie defends. "And I'm not saying one way or another who was on the roof that night."

"But it was her," Toby says softly, his voice torn with emotion. "It was Meredith."

"Dr. Palmer was still working here at the time?" Spencer then asks and Eddie nods.

"He retired in January," Eddie confirms. "The incident had been far too trying for him."

"And you," Spencer wonders. "Where were you?"

"Not even on this floor," Eddie tells her. "I don't know how either of them could get to the roof and I never saw who was up there with her. It's speculation-"

"No," Toby shakes his head. "It's Meredith."

"Like I said, I'm not allowed to say," Eddie replies. "But I am sorry. Your mother… She had her problems; everyone in here does. But she was a nice woman. She was willing to work to get better. She missed you and she missed being with you. I could tell she really, really loved you."

Toby nods, blinking rapidly in a way that tells Spencer tears are inevitable. Eddie says gently, "Let that be what you take away from this, Toby. We don't know too much, but we know that she loved you. Very much."

Eddie claps a hand on Spencer's shoulder and nods before turning and heading further into the hallway. Spencer calls, "Eddie?"

He turns back, his face questioning, and she smiles halfheartedly. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," He smiles back. "What are friends for?"

When she turns back to Toby, he's wiping furiously at his damp eyes. "Well that's that. Meredith killed her. Meredith killed her and she's still out there, somewhere."

She inches closer to him and wraps her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. "I'm sorry. I know that there wasn't really a possibility of a positive outcome today, but… At least you have answers now and maybe now your mom can finally rest and you can have some peace."

"No," He's shaking his head as they make their way back to the truck. "No, they're still covering it up and I don't know why. You said Mrs. DiLaurentis is on the board, right? She has to be connected to this."

"Maybe she was," Spencer says. "She's dead."

"Well, someone has to know something," Toby argues. "I can't just let this go knowing what I know now."

"You have to," Spencer disagrees. "You signed that agreement."

"That just means I can't sue them, right? I can't bring it to court?" Toby implores. "It doesn't mean I can't do some investigative journalism on my own."

"Toby, you're getting obsessed," Spencer points out. "When does this end?"

"It ends when I learn _exactly_ what happened to my mother," Toby shouts back. "Why aren't you more supportive of this? You're the one who urged me to pursue this in the first place!"

"I did, but I thought you wanted to know who was up there with her and you do now," Spencer claims. "You said you didn't want a play-by-play. Toby, it's only going to cause you even more pain in the long run and even if you get a freaking video tape from that night it's not going to bring her back!"

She regrets it the moment it's left her mouth. He nearly slams on the brakes outside her house and she's never seen him this angry. "I _know_ it's not going to bring her back. I know she's gone. Forever. But she had no other family and my father gave up on her and I _owe_ it to her memory to at least have an inkling of how she really went out. If you don't want to help me, _fine_. I'll figure it out for myself."

"Toby," She pleads but he doesn't look at her.

"Just go."

"I can't," She refuses. "Not if you're going to do something stupid."

"I'm not going to do something stupid," He growls. "I'm going to figure out why Mrs. DiLaurentis is trying to cover up a murder to save Radley. I need to know why she's so invested in that place. I need to get to the bottom of this."

"I told you, she's dead," Spencer repeats. "You can't get anything out of a dead body."

"No, but you can get plenty out of what they left behind," He sighs and finally looks at her. "Do you want to come or not?"

"Not," She insists and he frowns.

"Okay. Then go."

She does and he tears off down the road, a lump forming in Spencer's throat as she watches him go. She can't help but worry that it's all her fault; as she trudges up the driveway, she realizes she doesn't have Caleb to send after him, this time. She pushes open the back door and Melissa's eating yogurt on the couch, watching mindless television when she enters. Spencer wishes her mother were here because she really doesn't want to have this conversation with a sister she doesn't totally trust. But she must look visibly upset, because Melissa asks what's wrong and Spencer relays the entire afternoon's events to her over some yogurt of her own.

"Did I do that?" Spencer asks when she's finished. "Did I make him obsessed with answers? Is it my fault?"

Melissa considers this before nodding. "Yeah, I think so."

Spencer shoots her a look. "Not helping."

"What do you want me to say?" Melissa shrugs. "I think it is your fault. I mean, it's his, too. You can't blame him for wanting answers, especially since you encouraged it. But he shouldn't have gotten mad at you for something that was his fault, either. But you guys have been through worse; you'll be okay."

"I'm not worried about us, I'm worried about _him_," Spencer frowns. "If he gets himself into trouble… If he makes a wrong move… I don't know what I'll do if he gets hurt."

"Wow," Melissa smiles. "You love him a _lot_."

"I do," Spencer agrees. "Yeah. What tipped you off?"

"Hey, watch the attitude, I was just making an observation," Melissa shoots back. "I think Toby bit off more than he could chew when he got involved with you, but the crazy thing is, he threw himself into it wholeheartedly. He never backed down. So he'll be fine and so will you."

She stands to throw away their empty cups and Spencer asks, "What makes you so sure?"

"I'm the older sister," Melissa says, matter-of-factly. "I'm smarter than you."

Spencer rolls her eyes and says, "Hey, you didn't seem surprised by anything I told you."

"Why would I be?"

"Well, you knew Meredith, didn't you?"

"No," Melissa negates. "CeCe knew Meredith. They were _not_ friends."

"Well, Meredith's crazy, so…" Spencer trails off and then adds, "Then again, so is CeCe."

Melissa shrugs and heads for the stairs, disinterested suddenly. "Yeah, I guess."

"I don't know. I'm surprised," Spencer says. "I guess I just always thought that the blonde who killed Toby's mom and the girl in Ali's grave were the same person."

"Well, they're not," Melissa replies. "I don't know who's in that grave, but her killer's escaped custody yet again."

"Meredith?" Spencer asks, sitting up straighter, her eyes wide. "Meredith killed that girl?"

Melissa smirks. "Mrs. DiLaurentis paid CeCe off the night Alison disappeared. What do _you_ think that money was for?"

"CeCe," Spencer emits quietly. "CeCe killed her. Are you sure?"

"Oh Spencer," Melissa says as though she were talking to a young child. "Would I lie to you?"


	8. Eight

**Hey guys! So a lot of you have recently expressed that you feel confused or lost, even, in the drama that encompasses Melissa, CeCe, Meredith and the DiLaurentis family. I'm definitely hearing your concerns. My response? GOOD. This might make me sound like a horrible person (channeling my inner Spencer, here), but I _want_ you to be confused. How else am I supposed to yank the rug out from under you all at the last possible second? ;) I promise you, sweeping declaration, that the story won't end with confusion and cliffhangers, like on the show. Believe it or not, I know how I want this to end and I have the next nine chapters already written. Truth, not lies. If you start to pick up on some subtle clues, that's good! If not, that's also good. Believe me, I tried to be as cryptic as possible. It's harder than it sounds.**

**So anyway thank you for your reviews on the last chapter. You guys really know how to make a girl feel better. I promise things will get sorted out in the end and I apologize in advance for the lack of originality in their date. I legitimately could not think of anything else that seemed more normal (jeez Louise, I hope you don't think I'm copying you SpobyFicStalker. If it makes you feel better, you definitely did it better). OH and I just realized how this chapter ends and I want to apologize for that little shock factor too. It's just something I thought would be entertaining LOL. I hope you don't think it's dumb. Well it's okay if you do. Anyway, rambling. Kay bye. **

* * *

Eight

Lying, of course, is second nature in the Hastings household, but a gut feeling is telling Spencer that this time, something isn't quite right. Melissa had offered up that information much too casually and far too willingly- she's either finally decided to help her sister's cause or it's a trap. Either way, Spencer can't be the only one sitting with this information. She sends out an S.O.S. text and the others are at her house in moments, filled with just as much anxiety. None of them can really see much of a solution other than the obvious one smacking them in the face. If CeCe actually did murder the poor girl buried in Alison's grave, then the police should definitely be clued in to the latest turn of events. They sleep on it and in the morning, they send Hanna to inform Detective Holbrook.

It's been a whirlwind of a week and Spencer's all too glad it's finally Friday. Melissa's gone by the time Spencer's ready for school and she's left news that their parents would return by the end of that very evening. But that isn't the news Spencer's focused on; instead, when she turns on the television, the breaking news of the morning is that the Rosewood Police Department had issued a court order to exhume the body in Alison DiLaurentis's grave. Nothing the DiLaurentis family could do would stop this from happening and truthfully, Spencer hopes this will put an end to at least one other mystery. She watches the story unfold a few moments more before something else crosses her mind. She has an hour or so before school starts; she'll have to be quick.

The DiLaurentis house is still off limits, but Spencer had heard rumors that Jason had rented an apartment just on the outskirts of town. She's almost positive his relationship with his father- not the biological one- is nonexistent, so that easily explains why he isn't holed up in the motel with his sister. She does wonder, however, how he's taking this news. He and Alison fought World War III more than they got along, but he had truly felt responsible for her passing. Now that she'd reentered everyone's lives, Jason can't be reacting all that positively. Spencer asks around until she finds the right building and, citing a delivery, she lets herself inside.

The mailboxes claim Jason lives on the fourth floor, apartment D. By the time she gets there, however, it's clear that Jason hasn't been home in quite some time. The doormat is askew and the front door is unlocked and slightly ajar, as if he'd left in a hurry. Spencer approaches it cautiously, peering into the apartment and noting it had been left in disarray. A lamp had been knocked over and the light bulb is broken, lying in pieces on the floor. The bathroom light is still on and the bed's unmade; there are newspapers strewn about the couch and dirty dishes in the sink. Most of all, there's a suitcase by the door, but it's been left behind and, when Spencer checks, it's empty. The apartment shows signs of a struggle, which leaves Spencer with the age-old question- has Jason skipped town? Or has he gone missing?

"It was weird," She later tells her friends over lunch in the cafeteria. "The door was still open, he had things everywhere… But he left his suitcase behind?"

"Do you think he's gone permanently?" Emily asks. "I mean maybe Ali coming back is too much for him?"

"Maybe," Aria agrees. "Maybe he can't take that on top of losing his mom. It's got to be tough."

"I don't know. It just doesn't seem right," Spencer sighs. "First he lies about being in rehab-"

"Wait, he lied about that?" Hanna questions. "How do you know that?"

"Dean said the rehab clinic he'd claimed to be staying at has been closed for years," Spencer informs them. "I don't know what is going on. My father and Mrs. DiLaurentis cooked up this rehab story to cover something up and I don't know what it is."

"And now Jason's going along with it," Emily finishes. "They're hiding something."

Aria bites her lip. "Or…"

"Or what?"

"Or- he saw Ali the night she disappeared too," Aria explains. "Do you think he might be…?"

"Dead?" Hanna completes her thought and the others are silent a moment.

Finally, Spencer shakes her head. "No. No way. He can't be."

"Of course he could," Aria disagrees. "-A has absolutely no problem offing people. We've all experienced it firsthand."

"That's just the point," Spencer says. "If –A killed Jason, don't you think we would've heard about it by now?"

Emily grimaces, "Why?"

"Because she likes to show off," Spencer explicates. "Killing is a game to her. Think about it! She lured us out to an abandoned shack to see Ian, she locked Aria in box with Garrett, she stuffed Wilden in his own trunk and left it in the middle of the town and she thought we were legitimately glad that she got rid of Jenna for us. To her, it isn't about these people… It's about making a statement. It's all a spectacle. If she killed Jason, we would know it."

Hanna then asks, "So if he's not dead… where is he?"

Spencer shrugs. "I don't know."

There's an eruption of laughter from the table beside them and it startles the girls so much, they momentarily break their tension and solemnity to glance over at their classmates. It baffles them that their classmates are still able to laugh, to enjoy themselves, to gossip. Their biggest worry is the color of their prom dress or what their Friday night is going to consist of or who broke up with whom outside the school that very morning. The girls are captivated for a moment by the trivial issues beside them and wonder what it's like to be able to participate in normal high school behavior. When they look back on high school, years and years from now, they won't remember any of the good times their classmates will for the simple reason that they didn't have many in the first place.

A moment more of nostalgia and then it's lost. Emily asks, "You guys saw the news this morning, right? They're exhuming the body."

"Yeah," Aria sighs. "Supposedly they've already done so. Forensics are supposed to be back by tonight."

"What happens when they realize it's not Alison?" Hanna asks. "I mean, I know the police know already but… Everyone _else_ doesn't."

"It's just going to make things more difficult for us," Spencer replies. "And easier for –A."

"God, she's going to become like a zoo animal," Emily frowns. "People are going to figure out where she is and just camp outside the motel, just to get a glimpse of her."

"Wouldn't you?" Hanna wonders. "I mean, this town's been dedicated to her since she disappeared three years ago. Everything has been all about Alison and now… Now it's all going to change."

They nod their agreement and as they do, a simultaneous chorus of text tones resonates from the middle of the table. It can only mean one thing. Emily does the honor of reading their latest message. "_Miss Drake in the ballroom with the revolver. Did I win?_"

"That's not what mine says," Spencer disagrees and reads, "_No, that's not right. It's a shovel._"

"_Melissa's a sore loser,_" Hanna continues, reading from her phone. "_She won't play by my rules_."

"_Open that casket and you won't like what comes out_," Aria concludes. "_If they take her out, someone else goes in. –A._"

"What does that mean?" Hanna asks, panicking.

"Maybe CeCe didn't do it?" Aria offers. "Or maybe –A's covering for her."

"Did Melissa?" Emily wonders. "Why else would she bring her up?"

But Spencer's still white as a sheet. She turns her phone towards the others and says, "Mine has a picture attached."

She opens the clip and presents them with an illustration to go along with her text. Hanna points to it and asks, "Is that rust?"

"No," Spencer says gravely. "It's blood."

"This shovel is the murder weapon?" Emily asks and when she notes Spencer's horrified expression, she is quick to remind her, "You didn't do _anything_, okay? Don't freak out."

"How can I not?" Spencer implores. "Why else would she send me this picture?"

"To scare you," Aria says and Spencer nods.

"Well, it's working."

"Look, they're going to get CeCe and they're going to realize it was her and then this will all be over," Emily says. "We just need to focus on that."

This, of course, is easier said than done. They had just become pawns in a real-life game of _Clue_; there's a reason that's only just a game.

* * *

Caleb's at her locker when Hanna finishes for the day and she wishes she could still be angry with him, but lately, she isn't quite as mad anymore. Ever since their conversation in the library, he's been slowly inching closer and she hasn't been stopping him. Truthfully, she's thoroughly enjoyed having someone in her corner again. She's been keeping him up to date on all things –A-related and it's been nice to have him there for her again. She's still not sure if this will turn into anything other than friendship as much as he may want it to, but she can't dwell too much upon that. Caleb respects her space and her decisions despite his own desires, so Hanna knows if anything is to happen between them, it will be up to her. Secretly, she enjoys wielding that power. It certainly isn't something she's used to.

Today, she has a question for him when she approaches. "Have you seen Mona?"

Caleb pulls a face. "Mona? No, I try to stay away from her."

"I'm serious," Hanna frowns. "I've been thinking about it and I haven't seen her since last week."

Caleb shrugs. "Call her."

"I have. Three times since lunch," Hanna insists. "No answer and she won't return any of my texts, either. I'm worried about her."

He snorts. "She doesn't deserve that."

"Okay, I know you don't like her, but she was my best friend once," Hanna exclaims. "She was there for me when no one else was. She could be in trouble, okay? People around here are dropping like flies."

"Wait, wait, wait," Caleb catches her arm as she goes to turn away. "What do you mean? What's going on?"

Hanna exhales in exasperation. "A lot has happened since you've been gone. We figured out that –A has a killing pattern- she's taking down everyone who saw Ali the night she disappeared. Jenna, Garrett, Wilden-"

"You," Caleb supplements. "You and the others are on the list too, I assume?"

Hanna shakes her head. "She's trying to get to us. She wants us to stop looking for her and to stop helping Ali."

"Why don't you?"

"Because we can't," Hanna says with finality. "And now Jason's missing, too, and we don't know where Mona is? That's a problem. She saw Ali that night, too. She could be next."

"Or," Caleb counters. "She could be the one behind all of this."

Hanna hesitates before shaking her head. "I don't think it's Mona, this time."

"Okay," Caleb agrees uneasily. "I haven't seen her. I'm sorry."

Just then, Lucas rounds the corner and with it, the dark cloud above his head immediately dampens the mood in the entire hallway. He makes a beeline for his locker and ignores everyone around him, but that doesn't differ from the other students' behavior, as it's clear they're all avoiding him. His locker opens with a crash and he violently shoves his books into his backpack, before slamming it closed again. Hanna draws in a deep breath before crossing the treacherous waters between them and heading in his direction. Caleb follows after her, a lifeboat, thinking she's absolutely out of her mind. Lucas glances up just as they approach him and frowns impatiently, as if they're wasting his precious time.

"What?" He snarls as they grow closer.

"Hey Lucas," Hanna greets him as though nothing has changed. "I was wondering if you'd seen Mona?"

"Why would I know where Mona is?" Lucas asks. "I don't keep track of her."

"What are you talking about?" Caleb shoots back. "You guys are attached at the hip."

Lucas's eyes narrow. "I don't answer to you."

Hanna shoots Caleb a look and then turns back to Lucas. "It's just that you guys have been really close lately and I'm worried about her. I figured you might have an inkling as to where she is, but if you don't-"

"I don't," Lucas insists. "Mona's used to getting herself into trouble. She can get herself back out without my help."

Hanna's eyebrows furrow. "What do you mean?"

"Nothing," He turns away and stalks down the hall. "Just leave me alone."

They watch him go and Caleb says, "There is something seriously wrong with that kid."

"Yeah," Hanna agrees worriedly. "Tell me about it."

* * *

Since the very first assignment she's ever had, Spencer had always done her weekend homework on Friday night. She enjoyed having Saturday and Sunday to herself, to relax, and never liked the Sunday night scramble most people her age would have to deal with. Today is no exception. Melissa's still out and her parents haven't yet arrived home when she does, so she has the empty house to herself to complete her assignments. Of course, this isn't much different from any other day of the week; Spencer's used to being home alone, by now. Halfway through her _Hamlet_ paper, an argument she is absolutely _killing_, no pun intended, there is a knock on her back door and she jumps, because she isn't expecting company. She closes her laptop and can tell it's Toby before she even opens the door.

She can tell it's Toby, but she still barely recognizes him, because he's traded in his usual jeans-and-a-t-shirt style for slacks and a button down. She's confused at first, but then she remembers- she'd rescheduled their date for this evening, instead. She'd just assumed, after their argument, he'd decided against it. He glances at her sweatpants and tank top and asks, "Am I early?"

"No," She says. "I just… I didn't think we were still doing this, after yesterday."

"Yeah, about that," He glances at his shoes. "I'm sorry. You were right. I took it too far."

Spencer crosses her arms over her chest. "Where did you go?"

"Home," He states simply. "I tried looking into what Mrs. DiLaurentis could have on Radley, or vice versa, but I got nowhere and... It just seemed wrong to try and take down someone who isn't even alive to defend herself."

That sounds more like the Toby she knows and loves. Still, she frowns and says, "I'm sorry all of my insanity is rubbing off on you."

"You aren't crazy," He shakes his head as though the mere idea of that is the most ridiculous thing he's ever heard. "This whole situation? Everything that's happened these past few years? _That's_ what's crazy. I should've realized that sooner and I definitely shouldn't have listened to -A."

"I just want you to be happy," Spencer tells him honestly. "And I don't know if this will ever pan out the way you want it to. I'm sorry I yelled at you. I just wanted you to see that you were making yourself crazy. I don't want anything to happen to you, I just… I want you to be happy."

"Spencer," He smiles. "You make me happy."

"Yeah, well vice versa," She agrees. "And that's why I hate fighting with you."

"You think I enjoy it?" Toby asks. "That's why I'm here; to make it up to you."

"You don't have to make anything up to me," Spencer shakes her head. "Let's just move on."

"Okay. So we're good?"

"We're good."

They hug and Spencer inhales deeply, filling herself with his comforting scent. Toby kisses her temple and asks, "Are you going to change? Not that I don't love what you're wearing, but I might look a bit overdressed next to you."

She grins and pulls away, heading for the stairs. "Give me ten minutes."

It actually takes her fifteen, maybe even closer to twenty, but it's worth it, because when she comes downstairs in a dress that's sapphire blue and heels that channel her inner Hanna, she looks absolutely stunning. Toby tells her so over and over and she thanks him with a kiss and that _Hamlet_ paper is long forgotten. They head outside and Toby opens the door to his truck, allowing her to enter before him in true gentlemanly fashion. He's always been a gentleman, though; she isn't surprised. He holds the door open at the restaurant and pulls out her chair and it makes the inner feminist in her absolutely cringe. But she loves it; she loves _him_. And she knows that even though Marion hadn't lived to see her son emerge into adulthood, she had raised him right; she would be proud of the man he is today.

After they've ordered, Spencer suddenly pulls her phone from her purse and taps a few of the keys, fiddling a bit with the device as Toby asks quietly, "What's that? Another -A text?"

"Don't know, don't care," Spencer shrugs. "I'm not checking my messages, I'm turning off my phone."

His eyes widen and he implores, "Really? Do you think you should? What if someone needs to reach you?"

"The messages will still be there when I turn it back on."

"What if it's important?"

"It won't be. Not as important as this. I want to spend the night with you. Not you and the girls, not you and –A. Just you." Spencer admits openly, switching off her phone and watching as the screen fades to black. "I'm never going to be able to enjoy this if I don't. I want this night to be about us. It's _never _about us."

He nods his agreement. "No, I guess it's not."

She brightens then and glances around the restaurant before asking. "So, do you have any interesting hobbies? What are your likes and dislikes?"

He eyes her strangely. "What are you doing?"

"Getting to know you," She smiles teasingly. "It's our first date. Isn't that what you do on one of those?"

"I don't know," He shrugs. "I've never been on one."

"It's sad, isn't it?" Spencer asks. "That we haven't been on one yet?"

"I guess it is," Toby agrees. "To be honest, I prefer to stay in. No one stares at us in my loft."

Spencer shakes her head, reaching across the table to slip a hand into his. "I don't care what people think."

He considers this for a moment and squeezes her hand. "If you don't, I don't."

"I just don't want you think I'm blowing you off all the time," Spencer says. "I never _want_ to cancel on you. I just want to end all this so I can get my life back."

"I know," He smirks, entertained. "It's okay."

"And I like staying in, too," She continues. "But I don't think we should be hermits all the time."

He chuckles. "Okay. Then we should make this a more regular occurrence."

"We should. It's really nice," She smiles. "And it provides a perfect segue way into what I wanted to ask you."

Toby's smile dims a little. "Oh no."

"No, it's not bad, I promise," Spencer prefaces. "I'm class president, as you know-"

"I do."

"-and on Monday, we're announcing the date for prom- May 5th- and tickets are going on sale," Spencer continues, stirring the ice in her glass with the straw. "I was just wondering if… You would go with me."

He smiles a bit, amused. "Shouldn't I be the one asking you?"

"Well, yeah, in a world where you still go to school there," Spencer says. "But you don't anymore, so… Come on, we don't do anything conventionally. We're on our first date a year and a half into our relationship!"

"Touché," Toby grins. "Of course I'll go to prom with you. Do you even have to ask?"

"Yes, I do, because you hate that school and everyone in it," Spencer explains. "But if it makes you feel any better, prom isn't at the school. It's being held in this beautiful ski resort in the Poconos. We're really, really excited about it."

"It sounds great," Toby nods. "Count me in."

"Good," Spencer sighs in relief. "Because I really don't want to go with anyone but you."

The rest of the night passes far too quickly for their liking. Their meal is delicious, as is dessert, and when the waiter delivers the bill, Spencer performs an elaborate check dance and insists she pay for her half. Toby disagrees over and over; what's the point of taking her out, he counters, if he can't treat her to dinner? He gets his way, eventually, and is surprised when she doesn't descend into a rant on the rules of feminism. She instead claims she'll front the bill for the movie, but when they get there, Toby sheepishly presents her with the tickets he'd pre-purchased online and instead of getting angry, she commends him on his forward thinking. They get to skip the line, this way. Spencer's not sure what the movie's even about. She and Toby don't see much of it, anyway.

When they exit the theater, hand in hand, it's been hours since she's checked her phone and when she finally turns it on, she has a missed call from her mother. She listens as they're driving home and nearly has a heart attack. "Oh my god. Oh my god!"

"What's wrong?" Toby asks, alarmed. "What's going on?"

"I need to go to the police department," Spencer tells him, already tapping the keys of her phone to send the girls an S.O.S. "They caught CeCe… and they brought Melissa in for questioning."

"Melissa?" Toby replies in shock and then his eyes widen. "Do you think you were right about her?"

Spencer shakes her head. "I don't know. I was hoping I wasn't."

When he drops her off outside the police station, they have a short-lived argument about whether or not he should accompany her inside. No matter how many times he tells her he'd like to be there for her, Spencer insists she'll be alright alone. She promises to keep him updated and thanks him for a wonderful evening, kissing him as passionately as she can on a time crunch. When she gets inside, she's met with bustling activity and no one can answer her questions, because no one gives her a second glance. Aria, Emily and Hanna arrive moments later, but the four of them combined get about as far as Spencer had alone. Finally, after what seems like hours, Spencer spots her mother in the crowd of people and Veronica somehow manages to fight the mass and head over to her.

"This isn't quite the homecoming I'd had in mind," Veronica frowns.

"Mom, what is going on?" Spencer probes immediately and her mother sighs heavily.

"They apprehended CeCe Drake in Texas," She informs them. "I still don't know how she made it that far without someone recognizing her, but a couple more days and she would've probably been across the border."

"So she did it, then," Emily says. "I mean, why run if you're not guilty?"

"It's all speculation right now," Veronica replies. "But it certainly doesn't look good."

"So why is Melissa here?" Spencer then asks. "What do they need from her?"

"Well, when CeCe came in, it was with guns blazing," Veronica says. "Melissa accused her of killing that poor girl and CeCe counteracted by accusing Melissa of… This doesn't leave the room, got it?"

The four nod eagerly and Veronica continues, "CeCe says Melissa is the one who injured Alison the night she went missing."

"She thinks…" Aria says. "She thinks Melissa hit her? But why?"

"Like I said, it's speculation," Veronica responds. "A classic he-said, she-said. But they're both being held until further notice. I'm going to make a few phone calls. It's been a long night."

She disappears back down the hallway and none of the girls move an inch. Hanna says, "Melissa might've killed Alison."

"_No one_ killed Alison," Spencer corrects and Hanna rolls her eyes.

"Okay, well, she might've been the one to bash her over the head before her mom buried her alive!" Hanna counters. "Spence, your sister is dangerous."

"We don't know that she did anything," Spencer refutes. "Why are we trusting what CeCe says?"

"I don't know," Emily sighs. "But I don't think we can trust Melissa, either."

"Which means everything she's told us, everything we think we know," Aria says. "Might not even be true."

Hanna frowns. "So we're back at square one again."

But then, their phones beep and buzz and Aria reads, "_One's crying Melissa, the other's crying CeCe. Am I the only one who hasn't forgotten about the wolf?_ _–A_."

"What is she talking about?" Emily wonders and just then, there is a break in the case down the hall.

A man with a box stamped 'Forensics' enters the scene and the girls do what they can to make themselves invisible. It isn't difficult; no one had noticed their presence anyway. He approaches the head chief of the department and presents him with the box. "Sir, we've got a problem. I've just finished the DNA testing on the remains buried in Alison DiLaurentis's crypt and… Well, it wasn't what I expected."

The chief sighs. "Bronwyn, you know as well as I do that Alison DiLaurentis is still alive."

"I do, sir, but I thought someone else was in her grave," Bronwyn states and the chief frowns.

"What are you saying?"

Bronwyn hesitates at first, but opens the box and produces a copy of the lab report. "The teeth were not present; in fact, the mandible was missing entirely. But when I looked at the remaining cranium, it was very clear to me that it was not the skull of a teenage girl. It belongs to a man; someone in his late thirties, early forties."

"What's a man's skull doing in a teenage girl's grave?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, sir."

"Wait," The chief states. "You said the 'remaining' cranium. Were pieces of it, beside the mandible, missing?"

"No," Bronwyn states gently. "But there wasn't a body."

"No, I saw the bones this morning," The chief disagrees. "It was a little decayed, but it was there."

"The bones were made of plaster," Bronwyn explains. "Airbrushed to look human and rubbed with dirt to look decayed. All I had to do was get them under a microscope to see that."

"Is this some kind of joke?" The chief exclaims, outraged.

"No, sir. They do it all the time for TV shows and movies; simple process really. But, at the bottom of the body bag, I found this," Bronwyn reaches into the box and pulls out a curly blonde wig that's attached to a mask of Alison's face the girls know all too well. "Sir, I… I don't think there was ever anyone in here."

As the chief's face grows red with rage and twists in confusion, the girls turn away in shock and in awe. Emily says, "There's no one in the grave."

"There's no girl," Spencer seethes. "-A made me think I killed someone for_ weeks _and there's no one in that mausoleum."

"She had us all fooled," Hanna shakes her head.

Aria adds, "-A pulled a bait and switch at the last second. She gave us a heart attack for _nothing_."

To interrupt their irritation, a text slices through the night. They almost ignore it, but at the last second, decide to indulge in her taunting tone,

"_Made you look! –A_."


	9. Nine

**Good morning friends! Breaking news on the writing front- I finally got some done last night haha. It took a lot of motivation that I didn't have after working until 6 yesterday, but I finally pushed myself into getting at least a quarter, maybe half of a chapter written. That's progress. I'll finish it tonight and I'll be one step closer to being done with this story! Hallelujah, right? It'll be a nice accomplishment to be able to see everything finished neatly and polished to my impossible standards.**

**Your spectacular reviews on the last chapter made my entire week. I kid you not. I thought you guys would think it was dumb that there wasn't anyone in the grave. I thought long and hard about who I could put in there that would make sense and finally I was like, "Wait, wouldn't it be _hilarious_ if -A's leading these girls off a cliff? Wouldn't it be great if there was no one in there and they're freaking out over nothing?" And there you have it. Thank you for sticking through my crazy ideas. Love you all. Enjoy this chapter.**

* * *

Nine

Coming off of the very disappointing news that they had been following a false story for weeks, the four girls react in outrage, because they had wasted their time and effort trying to solve a nonexistent mystery, and in embarrassment; they're ashamed that this far into the game, -A can still pull the rug out from under them just as well as she had when this all began. They had been so focused on finding out who it could possibly be, that they never even considered that it might all be a ruse to distract them from the task at hand. The rest of the weekend passes fairly serenely; -A sends a few gloating texts and one last menacing one citing that though Alison's grave is empty, it wouldn't be for long. But now, the girls don't know if they should still fear her words; after all, last time she'd been all bark, no bite.

Melissa and CeCe are both released from police custody by Monday morning. Everything they come up with is hearsay at its finest; there is no substantial evidence against either of them, so the police are forced to allow them to walk. Both of the girls are triumphant and CeCe is gone before anyone can stop her. Melissa returns home and holes herself in her room and, of course, Peter and Veronica cater to her every whim, thoroughly disgusted that the town could think she was a monster. Spencer's still not so sure. She has learned to watch her mouth around her family lately and there's so much she wants to say, but she keeps it all to herself. Needless to say, it's a tense weekend and when a certain tan truck pulls outside her house Monday morning, she nearly sprints out the door, desperate to be in contact with anyone other than her immediate family.

"She's back home, huh?" Toby asks as he pulls away from her house.

"Yeah and my parents are treating her like she just got out of the hospital, not jail," Spencer sighs. "I can't take it. They think she can do no wrong."

"I don't know," Toby says. "They're her parents. I think they just don't want to believe that their daughter could hurt anyone."

"Oh really?" Spencer counters sarcastically. "They genuinely believed I murdered someone, but when it comes to Melissa, that's not even in the realm of possibilities?"

"I didn't say it was right, Spencer," Toby says. "But there's no real evidence. And there was a lot stacked against you even though, as your parents, they should've been on your side."

"Well, welcome to my life," Spencer leans back against the seat. "Melissa could murder me and they still wouldn't bat an eye."

"That's not true," Toby rolls his eyes. "First of all, I don't think Melissa's capable of killing her own sister."

"You'd be surprised what she's capable of," Spencer murmurs.

"And second," Toby continues. "Your parents would _definitely_ care if they lost you. I don't know anyone who wouldn't."

"I can probably think of a few people," Spencer replies and when Toby shoots her a look, she backpedals. "Okay, fine, you're right. I'm sorry, it's just- she drives me insane."

"I can tell," Toby says. "Look, this might have been a setback, but we're still going to figure this out."

Spencer watches the determination on his face and feels a smile grow on her own. She recalls Alison's words from a month earlier; _I know what you see in Toby, Spencer. When he tells you the truth, you believe him_. She does, because he doesn't give her a reason not to. He's the most sincere, most genuine human being she's ever met, and everything he says, everything he feels, he does so with his entire heart. Spencer wonders how a person who has gone through more turmoil than triumph can still have a heart as large as his. She's certainly the more pessimistic of the two, but when compared side by side, the lack of hope should really be his quality more than it is hers. At a red light, he catches her staring and smirks.

"What?"

She shakes her head and focuses her gaze instead upon the road ahead of them. He waits expectantly, so she says, "It's just nice to always have someone in my corner."

It's clear her answer has taken him aback. When he recovers he says, "I'll always be on your side, Spence. Always."

They pull up to the school and Toby presents her with an envelope of cash. "Here- this is for the prom tickets."

She pushes it back in his direction. "No way! Come on; you paid for dinner and the movie. Prom's on me."

"Prom is _not_ on you," He disagrees. "You got to ask, I get to pay."

She laughs a bit, but still doesn't relent. "I can't let you do that. You work so hard for your money. You deserve to keep it."

"No," He shakes his head. "I'm spending it on us. You just said it's never about us. Well now it is."

"Yeah, but-"

"Spencer Hastings," Toby announces. "You are not getting your way with this. Take the money, get us tickets for prom and tell me what color your dress is going to be so I can match."

She's been full-named; now she's in trouble. She takes the envelope and says, "It's plum."

"Plum? So like a purple?" Toby asks and when she nods, he says, "Okay. Got it. Now kiss me and get to class; you're going to be late."

She leans across the space between them and presses her lips to his. Toby doesn't pull rank often, but she has to say, she really enjoys it when he does. He nuzzles their noses together when she pulls away and says, "Love you."

"I love you, too," Spencer breathes and departs the vehicle.

Toby watches her go and then drives off in search of a tuxedo and a plum tie.

* * *

The girls have just left English class for the afternoon and are headed in separate directions for their final class of the day. But before they do, they, of course, stop by the table selling prom tickets and pick up their copies. Spencer's the only one who buys two tickets; Hanna can feel Caleb's eyes on her from down the hall, but she buys one, anyway. Emily still hasn't settled things with Paige and Aria can't figure out whom she could possibly take. Spencer realizes that for the first time, she and Toby are the only ones who remain intact. She takes this as a serious victory; usually, she and Toby are the ones to bear the brunt of the emotional trauma and have to break things off to keep the other safe. This time, although she wishes everyone else didn't have to suffer, she's glad she's allowed a moment of peace for once.

"Why are you pouting?" Emily asks their blonde friend. "We all know you're going to take Caleb."

"No, we _don't_ know that," Hanna glares at her. "I'm going to end up taking Aria, at this point."

"No complaints here," Aria says. "I don't have a date, either."

"Well, I don't know what to tell _you_," Spencer tells the petite brunette. "But as for you, Han, Caleb bought a ticket while I was selling fourth period. He asked me if you had a date yet."

"Funny that he asked you and not me," Hanna says. "He knows I'd turn him down."

"Why?" Emily wonders. "I mean, you don't have to be in love with him anymore to go to prom."

Hanna says nothing and Aria observes, "You _are_ still in love with him."

"Did you think that was going to go away?" Hanna defends. "I tried! I tried not to be in love with him. I dated Travis, I threw plates…"

"Wait, what?" Spencer pulls a face and Hanna waves it off.

"My mom's version of breakup therapy," She explains. "Nothing worked."

"That's because," Emily tells her. "You two kind of belong together."

Hanna changes the subject. "Well what about you? Did you fix things with Paige yet?"

"No," Emily sighs. "And I doubt that when she finds out I bought one ticket, and only one, to prom, she's going to be very thrilled with me."

"Okay, big deal, she ratted Ali out," Aria puts in. "Everyone knows she's alive, now."

"They took the police lockdown off of the motel," Spencer tells them. "And I think they pulled the caution tape off of her house, too. Alison's free to go."

"Well, that can't be good," Hanna says. "I mean it'll be easier to see her, now, but that just makes things easier for –A too."

"We've got to figure out if she knows anything else," Spencer says. "We're drawing all of these conclusions and each time, we're wrong. If we keep doing this, we'll _never_ figure it out."

"I know, but I think we've shaken all the information out of Ali that we can," Emily states. "What other reason could she have to keep things from us now?"

"The one we keep going back to," Aria answers. "She doesn't trust us."

"You said she told you she doesn't," Hanna points out. "Which is bullshit, really, after everything we've done for her."

"Well, our relationships with her have always been one step forward, two steps back," Spencer says. "So nothing new there."

They reach Aria's locker for a pit stop and as they do, Emily's phone buzzes in her pocket. She reaches for it and her eyes widen as she reads the message aloud. "_I see everything and now she sees nothing. Kisses, -A_."

"What the hell does that mean?" Hanna asks, impatiently.

"Attached is an obituary for Mrs. Grunwald," Emily adds. "She's dead."

The girls are silent a moment; with her death, that's just another person who'd seen Alison the night she went missing who didn't make it to see the end. Aria suggests, "-A sees everything; she's always said that. Do you think she might not be a she?"

"What?"

"Who else sees everything?" Aria asks. "The NAT club, right? The only members of the NAT club-"

"Are dead," Hanna finishes but Aria shakes her head.

"Are guys," Aria says instead. "And Jason's a member. He's still alive."

"And still suspiciously missing," Spencer states. "Wherever he is, he could be involved in this."

"And Alison said that her mother buried her alive to cover for whoever hit her," Emily adds, realization dawning upon her. "Who else would she do that for besides her own flesh and blood?"

"Guys, this whole time we thought Jason was on our side," Aria states. "What if we were wrong?"

"We've been wrong before," Spencer points out. "We've been wrong _a lot_. And it would make sense if it were Jason; that would explain what Mrs. DiLaurentis and my dad are covering up."

Aria wonders, "That their kid's a psychopath?"

"Yeah," Spencer nods. "And for once, it's not me or Melissa."

Before they can further their theory, Ezra Fitz comes down the hall, walking with a purpose, and approaches the four girls. "Miss Montgomery, could I talk to you for a second?"

She shakes her head. "I'll be late for economics."

"I'll write you a late pass," He insists. "Please."

The others eye her to gauge her reaction, but she tells them, wordlessly, she'll be fine. As they depart, Aria follows Ezra silently into the closest classroom and as he goes to shut the door, she says, "I'd prefer if you left that open."

He nods and does so. "I just wanted to see how you were doing. It's been a while since the hospital and I haven't seen you since then."

"I'm fine," She tells him. "How are you?"

"Recovering," He nods. "Doing the best I can, considering the piece of my spleen that's missing."

"Yeah, Caleb's missing part of his, too," Aria says. "And he's doing just fine."

Ezra's smile fades a bit. "It was a joke, Aria."

"I'm not in the mood," She crosses her arms. "Are we done?"

"No," He disagrees. "We've barely spoken."

"I prefer to keep it that way," Aria tells him. "Look, I wasn't kidding when I said I don't want to see or hear from you anymore. I really do want you to leave town and I don't know why you're still here."

"If I wasn't still here," Ezra counters. "One of you would've been shot that night."

"Oh, you're going to play the martyr card?" She asks, feeling her anger rise. "Ezra, I don't know how you even knew we were there, in New York, that night, but something tells me you never really powered down your spy equipment."

"I wasn't spying on you," He says and Aria corrects herself.

"I'm sorry, do you prefer the more technical term?" She wonders. "Because I'm pretty sure the police would call it stalking."

"Aria, I already told you I was sorry," He sighs. "I don't know what more you want from me."

"I already told you," She says. "I want you to _go_."

"I have a life here."

"So did I, before you ruined it," Aria tells him and he frowns.

"Don't say that. I love you."

"So did I," She repeats. "I loved you and I can see that it was all just a big mistake. I should've listened to my friends, my family, when they warned me against you. But I didn't and… It was a mistake."

"No, it wasn't," Ezra shakes his head. "It wasn't. We can still fix it-"

"We can't and I don't want to," Aria tells him. "I don't love you anymore, okay? I don't. I shouldn't have in the first place. I'm sorry you got shot that night. I'm sorry I trashed your apartment. I'm sorry I ever got involved with you in the first place."

Ezra stares at her until the bell rings. "I'm not."

"Well, maybe you should be," Aria says as his next class begins to filter in. "I'd like my late pass now, Mr. Fitz."

* * *

As Hanna's gathering her things to leave school for the day, she glances up casually and does a double take as she notices Mona sauntering down the halls like she owns the place. Hanna has to blink innumerous times to be sure she isn't seeing things, but there she is, her former best friend, in the flesh. So much for being MIA; Hanna's actually incredibly irritated that her friend is present. If she's alive and well, why couldn't she have sent Hanna a text or returned any of the thousand phone calls Hanna had bothered to send? She watches as Mona opens her locker, takes a minute to fluff her hair and fix her lip gloss in the mirror and then shut the metal door again without taking out any books. Yeah. Same old Mona.

Hanna then watches as Mona affixes her bag more firmly on her shoulder before walking down the hall in the opposite direction and finding Lucas. He's fumbling with the combination lock on his own metal door and when she approaches, he nearly jumps into the ceiling. She stands close, close enough that Hanna can't even read her lips to figure out what she's saying, but Lucas looks apprehensive before her. He nods slowly and when she frowns, he quickens his movements. They're whispering furiously to one another and Hanna would be lying if she said it didn't look suspicious. She decides enough is enough. She closes her own locker and stalks over to them. When Lucas notices she's approaching, he bounds off down the hall and Hanna frowns. Mona crosses her arms over her chest and pastes a smile on her face.

"Hey Han!" She greets cordially. "It's been a while, no?"

"Cut the crap, Mona," Hanna says, no-nonsense. "What are you doing talking to Lucas?"

Mona purses her lips. "It's complicated."

"Yeah, there's been a lot of that, these days," Hanna says. "Where have you been?"

"_Moi_?" Mona feigns innocence. "Why, right here, of course."

"Don't start," Hanna shakes her head. "You've been absent from school for like a week. What have you been doing?"

Mona's eyes darken. "I can't get into that here."

"Well, great, then let's go somewhere where you _can_," Hanna links her arm through her friend's. "I'm hungry, anyway."

She gives Mona no other choice; on the way out of the school, she passes the other girls, who look just as perplexed as Mona does, perhaps. They catch on quickly and follow along. Truthfully, they're done with the secrets and lies. It's been far too long since they've been able to tell the difference between what was happening before their very eyes and what was happening behind closed doors. Hanna brings Mona to the Grille, the other girls in tow, and orders a smoothie. She offers to pay for the others' refreshments as well, but it seems no one else is in the eating mood. As a last resort, Emily invites Alison. It's a long shot, she knows, but if they're going to beat some answers out of Mona, Alison deserves to be here for it as well.

"Alright," Hanna says, sipping at her smoothie. "Go ahead. Out with it."

The Grille is mostly empty; the only other patrons are a mother and her toddler and an elder couple. Still, Mona's voice is not above a whisper. "I don't know what you expect me to say."

"How about the truth?" Hanna suggests. "We deserve it."

"What you all deserve is debatable," Mona smirks but the others are not amused.

"Watch it," Aria threatens. "We're in public and there are four of us and one of you."

"Five," They hear a voice say. "There are five of us."

When they turn in the direction of the familiar sound, they come face to face with Alison DiLaurentis. Mona's eyes widen; of course she'd known Alison was alive, but she hadn't seen her since she sent her on her way three years ago. The lack of police escort this time allows Alison to walk in like a regular Joe, but the patrons and the staff of the Grille stare at her the entire time she's there. It's nothing she isn't expecting; after all, the last anyone had heard of her, she'd been dead and gone. Alison takes a seat beside Aria and says, "You have been getting on my last nerve since this whole thing started. You're going to give us the answers we need or so help me god, I will ruin you."

Mona draws in a deep breath and says, "Be gone, you have no powers here."

"I haven't, not in a while," Alison challenges. "Want to see how quickly I can get them back?"

"Just answer the obvious question," Emily says. "Are you –A?"

"I told you," Mona sighs, as if the conversation has already exhausted her. "This is bigger than me, now. Someone else is in charge and I don't know who it is."

"But are you on the radar?" Spencer wonders. "Are you a victim too? Or are you working for the enemy?"

Mona frowns. "It's a bit of both."

They stare at her and when she doesn't go on, Hanna urges, "Explain."

"I don't get –A texts, like you do," Mona explicates. "But that doesn't mean I'm out of her way. She makes me do other things, because some of the stuff she has over me… I could go to prison for. I'm trying to get to the cap and gown, not the orange jumpsuit."

"What does she make you do?" Aria asks and Mona shakes her head.

"I can't say," She replies. "But it's her way of making sure that I know she's in charge now. And, of course, that I'll never be free of her. You can't fully escape the –A team. It's something she's been instilling in me over and over."

Spencer hesitates and says, "I did."

Mona glares at her. "You think I don't _know_ that? You think I don't pay for your and Toby's mistakes every single day?"

"What do you mean?" Spencer wonders.

"I mean, -A's making me do things, terrible things, because of you two," She complains. "I let you and Toby off so easy… I tried to explain that neither of you were really members. Your hearts were never in the job; you were there for _you_, not for me. Not for –A. Did that matter to her? No way. And the more I try to explain, the deeper a hole I dig for myself. I'm in a _load_ of trouble because of you two, so I hope it was worth it."

"You're the one who recruited Toby," Spencer accuses. "If you had left him alone, if you had left _us_ alone, you wouldn't be in this mess."

"If you had just joined when I first asked you," Mona counters. "Neither would you."

Hanna cuts off what is sure to be an indignant retort from Spencer. "So you're being bullied and blackmailed for how easily you let them off, but what does Lucas have to do with this?"

"Collateral damage," Mona waves him off. "He isn't important. He wants out and he doesn't understand that you _can't_ get out, not when you're in this deep."

"He's the one who gave me that massage," Emily shudders. "What else has he done?"

"Eh, a little here, a little there, nothing major." Mona replies. "Look, if –A knew I was telling you this-"

"Whatever," Hanna shakes her head. "At the Lodge the night of the fire, you said you didn't know who Red Coat was. But it was CeCe, wasn't it?"

"Yes," Mona says tightly. "But I wasn't lying. I didn't know who it was and I found out when you did."

"Even I knew that," Alison puts in. "How do you think I managed to sneak around unnoticed and pull you guys out?"

"But Red Coat's not in charge," Spencer mentions. "Was she ever?"

"I don't know," Mona shrugs. "CeCe came to visit me in Radley and I swear, I don't remember our conversation. I truly don't."

"She probably stole the game from you then," Aria speculates and Spencer nods.

"And she most likely took it to someone else," She adds. "She definitely had help, because she's not in charge, but someone else is."

Emily pauses before saying, "Melissa?"

"Melissa knows _something_," Mona mutters and the other girls' eyes snap to her face. "She does. I've been watching her for weeks. There's something strange about her; suspicious. I don't know what it is; I don't know what she knows. But it's something and if I had to guess, it's big."

"What did I tell you, Spence?" Alison professes, amused. "You can't trust _anyone_."

"Do you think she knows who –A is?" Hanna asks. "Is she keeping it from us?"

"Or maybe she and CeCe are in this together," Aria suggests. "Jason saw them talking outside your house that night."

"And CeCe said that Melissa is the one who…" Emily trails off before adding, gently, "The one who hit you."

Alison turns towards Mona sharply. "Is she?"

Mona shrugs. "I don't know. I don't know who hit you. I didn't show up until after you came out of the ground, remember?"

"Conveniently," Alison seethes. "You knew exactly where I'd be. How do I know you didn't send this person? Huh?"

"Because I wanted you to go away!" Mona insists. "I didn't want you to die!"

"_Bitch can't see you, but I do. Tonight's the night I kill you_," Alison recites from memory. "You didn't send that text?"

Mona glances downward. "I did."

Alison's triumphant. "There you go."

"I sent it, but I didn't hit you," Mona remains steadfast. "And I don't know who did."

"Okay, let me get this straight," Spencer breaks the two up. "Back then, -A was Mona, so the person who tried to kill you wasn't –A. But they are now, right? This person who hit you and –A are one in the same?"

They all look to Mona for the answer and she shrugs. "I can only assume."

"You don't know?"

"I've never met –A," Mona admits. "My orders come in through the back door."

"I don't believe you," Alison says and Mona frowns.

"Fine! Don't! But I'm telling you the truth," She maintains. "There are people a lot guiltier than me. Why aren't you questioning them?"

"I have a question," Emily proposes. "Who put the plaster and mask in Ali's body bag? This whole time we thought you were threatening us with a body and then there was nothing inside."

"I wasn't threatening you with anything," Mona states.

Spencer reminds her, "That text we got at the beginning of the year, remember? _Mona played with dolls, I play with body parts_. It wasn't her."

"I guess I just thought it was Toby," Aria says and then adds a quick, "Sorry, Spence."

"Please," Mona rolls her eyes. "Toby couldn't detach body parts if his life depended on it."

As strange as it is, Spencer takes it as a compliment to her boyfriend's character. "So? Who faked the body?"

"What do you think CeCe got paid for the night Alison went away?" Mona asks. "Mrs. DiLaurentis had just buried her own daughter and guess who witnessed it?"

"Melissa said CeCe got paid to keep quiet about killing a girl," Spencer puts in. "But there's no girl. Are you saying she got paid to keep quiet about faking the body?"

Mona rolls her eyes. "You catch on quick, sweetheart."

"So how was Melissa _so_ wrong?" Hanna asks.

"Like I said, she knows something," Mona replies. "It's not unlike her to spin a fake story to cover up something else."

"Maybe she did hit me," Alison ponders. "Or maybe it was CeCe. How am I supposed to find out?"

"Well you're still… connected, right?" Emily asks Mona.

She rolls her eyes. "If you're asking me if I've hung up my black hoodie, the answer is no."

"Okay, so can't you get Ali some answers?"

"Do I look like a double agent to you?" Mona implores. "I'm going to get crucified as it is for what I've told you already."

"You said you don't know who it is."

"I don't," Mona reiterates. "But I've got a pretty good idea."

The others stare at her with incredulous looks. She defends herself by saying, "As if I'd tell you."

"Why _wouldn't_ you?"

"Because in case you haven't noticed, that bitch is crazy," Mona tells them. "And if I don't follow her rules, I'll be the next one in a body bag."

"But you have an idea?"

"Call it a hunch."

"And you won't share it with us?"

"I don't want to _die_."

"Mona," Hanna pleads. "Who is it? Who are you so afraid of? CeCe? Jenna was scared of CeCe."

"Jenna was right to be," Mona tells her friend. "But CeCe's only one cog in the operation. And this one goes all the way to the _top_."


	10. Ten

**Hello all! Breaking news on the writing front- I actually did some this weekend. I have one chapter left to write and then I will be done with this story. Hallelujah- I feel like it's taken so much out of me haha. Also the original plan was to be finished updating this story before season 5 starts, but clearly since it premieres tomorrow, that isn't going to happen. Oh well. I can already tell by watching the previews the show and I are going to have some major discrepancies, but that's alright. It is what it is, isn't it?**

**So we're halfway through now. The longevity of this story is 20 chapters (because, you know me, I can't seem to shut up and make things shorter). I want to thank you for your reviews- they were really, really great to read. I swear they keep getting better, so keep 'em coming. If you don't, no worries. I know you're there reading and that's enough for me to continue posting. Have a magical day and hopefully you'll enjoy this one!**

* * *

Ten

"I've always hated that bitch," Alison admits the moment Mona's left the scene. "God, I should've known Loser Mona was just an act."

"It's a classic Jekyll and Hyde move," Spencer comments. "She's one person outwardly and someone entirely different behind closed doors."

"Why they ever let her out of Radley is completely beyond me," Aria rolls her eyes. "She's freaking bat-shit. I'd love to see that doctor's credentials; the one who evaluated her and let her go."

"Oh, well why don't you ask Spencer?" Alison suggests innocuously. "Or maybe Hanna. They're the ones who've flirted with fire and danced with Dr. Zhivago."

"What are you talking about?" Emily furrows her brow and Alison sighs.

"Dr. Wren's the one who let Mona go," Alison explains. "And last time I checked, he was tongue wrestling with Spencer and swapping saliva with Hanna."

Hanna holds up a hand in defense. "Okay, not at the same time!"

Emily frowns. "Does that make it better?"

"It probably shouldn't have happened at all," Aria says and both Spencer and Hanna shoot her a judgmental glare.

"Like _you_ should talk!" Hanna exclaims. "You had sex with your teacher!"

"Duly noted," Aria hisses. "Can you keep it down? We're in public!"

"What is in the water at Rosewood?" Spencer wonders aloud. "What is it with all of these older men interested in teenage girls?"

"I don't know," Hanna groans. "But let me be the first to get out of here before I end up on some daytime talk show."

Alison watches the girls, her former little minions, try to connect the dots, to come up with theories out of thin air, grasping at straws and trying to see answers where there aren't any. She has to force herself to bite her tongue and hold back the sarcastic retort. She's been doing this longer than they have; they have absolutely _no_ idea how serious this really is. As much as she would love for this to be over, as much as she would like to return home and pretend like nothing ever happened, she knows she never will. Perhaps she's lost her ability to believe in the goodness of others, but she's much more of a realist than a dreamer, now. Being tortured endlessly has done that to her. Part of her knows this won't ever come to an end; the other part just really wants to run.

Spencer's the first to recognize a change in Alison's demeanor and the blonde isn't shocked. For everything she's been through, and it's been _a lot_, Spencer's intellect has not dwindled. It has only sharpened. "Damn it, Ali, don't even go there."

"Go where?" Hanna demands.

"She's going to disappear again; you can see it in her eyes," Spencer explains and Alison doesn't bother denying it. "This is your mess and we are not cleaning it up for you. We are _not_ doing this without you."

"Don't you get it?" Alison accuses. "This is never going to be over. No matter what we do, -A is always going to come out on top!"

"But we still have to try," Emily says. "We _have_ to. We can't keep living like this!"

"We can go," Alison pleads with her. "We can leave Rosewood, for good, and never look back. You're all graduating in a month; just hold on a little longer and then we can get out of here. Forever."

"Running away might be how you solved your problems before," Spencer refutes. "But that just leaves a mess for whoever's left behind."

Alison shrugs. "That's their problem. I wouldn't be around to see or care. I'd be somewhere else, far away, where –A can't find me."

"Don't kid yourself, Ali," Aria says. "That place doesn't exist."

Alison is used to the backlash from Spencer; she's gotten it for years. But she doesn't expect it from the other three. Before, they had been her little dolls; her decisions dictated their motions. She'd give them an action and they would perform a perfect puppet show, aware but unable to do anything about Alison controlling their strings. But everything's different now. When she'd left, each one of the girls had distanced themselves for her, had come out of their shells and had grown into their own selves. They'd established relationships, both romantic and friendly, and had gotten a better understanding of who they were as individuals. Alison sees this change in each and every one of them, but she doesn't see it in herself. She's still Geppetto, stuck in an awkward limbo, and her puppets aren't puppets anymore. They're real girls.

"You left us the first time and I get it, okay? I understand," Spencer says gravely. "But you are _not_ doing that to us again. We are finishing this because I am so sick and tired of living in a lie."

"It's going to get better," Emily tells her, a bit gentler than her friend. "It's probably going to get a lot worse, first, but there's always a light at the end of the tunnel, even if you can't see it from where we're standing now."

Alison considers this before saying, "As long as I don't have to do it alone."

The four girls seem satisfied with her answer and as they depart for the afternoon, Alison takes pride in the fact that her acting is still superior. She watches the girls head in four separate directions before slipping down the streets of her old hometown and out of sight. It's strange; she feels like an alien, a foreign invader, a tumbleweed in the middle of a high-rise, industrialized city. She doesn't belong here and she knows it; the glances and apprehensive looks people send her way do well to render that little secret discovered. Alison knows she must leave if she's to restore the balance and order in this town once again and save her own life in the process. She knows this fact to be true just as much as she knows that despite the optimism her friends may have, they are never going to dig themselves out of –A's grave. She's out of here; she's history, despite what she may have told the girls.

But before she goes, there's something else she has to do.

* * *

Giving back to the community does a heart good, but Alison DiLaurentis had never subscribed to such a practice. And yet, here she is, armed with a bouquet of purple hyacinths and standing outside the Hastings' residence on a sunny and warm Tuesday morning. She's feeling an enormous sense of déjà vu; the last time she had sought out everyone she'd been awful to, it had ended with a gaping head wound and dirt in her lungs. And she's hopeless, really, that things will ever get better. She doesn't have Emily's positive attitude; perhaps she's more like Spencer than she'll ever care to admit. But she knows if she's going to disappear once and for all, she has to tie all the loose ends and right all her impossible wrongs before she does so.

Melissa answers the door and doesn't even balk at her company. "Well, if it isn't the walking dead."

"I wasn't planning on you being here," Alison says. "I was just going to leave these for you. You don't have a job?"

"Not since I left the one I had in London for a sister who accused me of murder," Melissa crosses her arms. "What do you want?"

"To apologize," Alison states simply. "I caused you a lot of trouble. For a while, I thought you were the one who was after me and I guess I wouldn't blame you."

Melissa purses her lips. "How do you know I'm not?"

The blonde pauses and shrugs. "I guess I don't. I'll probably never know anything for sure. But I just wanted to make amends. Or, at least start to."

"You know what?" Melissa implores. "That isn't ever going to happen. I'm not going to forgive you for ruining my relationship."

"Ruining your relationship?" Alison smirks. "Honey, I think that ship was sailed the moment you got on it. If you're with a guy who'd rather hook up with a fifteen-year-old than you, _I'm_ not really the problem, am I?"

"Once again, you're making this about me," Melissa growls. "Spencer said the same thing when she and Wren-"

"Wren. God, you have a type, don't you?" Alison chuckles. "I wasn't making it about you. It's about _them_. I don't know how you're so delusional that you can't see that and I don't understand why everyone thinks you're smarter than Spencer."

"So you're not only going to throw my broken relationships in my face, but also insult me?" Melissa scoffs. "This is _some_ apology."

"You're the one who's making it into something it's not," Alison backpedals. "Just… I am sorry, Melissa. Maybe someday the hatred will fade and you'll be able to see that."

"Don't count on it," Melissa hisses. "Get out of here. And take your junkie flowers with you. I'm allergic."

With that, the back door is slammed in her face and although it hadn't played out the way she wanted, she still crosses Melissa off her list. There's a reason she started with Melissa; she assumed, correctly, that she'd face the most opposition with her. She realizes, a bit comically, now, that she's made a list in that order- the people she'd experience the most backlash from all the way down to the least. It is what it is; if there's one thing she's become since she's been gone, it's self-aware. Alison can't help who she is and she knows that she's done many people wrong. She wishes she had changed for the better, but she hasn't; if anything, two years of being on the run had left her even more jaded, repressed and alone.

Next on her list is the one person she'd been dreading speaking to ever since she'd returned weeks earlier. To say Paige McCullers had not been her best friend would be like saying the Titanic had merely hit an ice cube. Looking back on it, Alison isn't quite sure where her deep-seated hatred of Paige really came from. It was one of those things, and all teenage girls- even the sweetest ones- can attest to this, where Alison just hated Paige for no apparent reason at all. Maybe it was the way she walked or the way she dressed or the way her gaze always lingered far too long on Emily, but there really was no concrete reason. Alison hated Paige _just because_; because she was different, because she attracted Alison's attention in the wrong way, because she was simply _there_.

Paige skipped school today and Alison's not sure why, but she doesn't care. She's found her at the park, typing away furiously on her laptop, but her fingers still when Alison sits upon the picnic table bench before her. "If that's an apology email, it can be forwarded directly to my personal account, alisondilaurentis at thanks-but-no-thanks .com."

Paige sneers. "And why would I owe you an apology?"

"Well, I didn't always have the police holding my hand and now I do," Alison tells her. "I guess I can probably thank Emily for that, though, right? I always told her you weren't trustworthy, but she didn't believe me and then she proved me right."

"I was doing what I had to. I wanted to keep Emily safe," Paige insists. "There is so much danger surrounding you. There is way too much. I did what I thought was right."

"Even if it meant sacrificing someone else?" Alison challenges.

Paige's glare is set as stone. "Yes."

Alison sighs. "Well believe it or not, I actually came here to apologize. You can have these flowers, too, if you want. Melissa Hastings can't take it when she's not the most beautiful thing in the room."

Paige shakes her head. "I don't accept gifts from enemies. How do I know that's not dripping with poison to put me in an eternal sleep?"

"Because I'm not an old hag in a black cloak with a wart on my nose," Alison contends.

"Could have fooled me," Paige says, indignant.

"It's not an apple, Paige, it's an olive branch. I'm sorry for what I did to you. For what I said."

"You should be," Paige agrees. "Where would you ever get the idea that you could treat someone like that? Why would you ever think that cutting someone down would make you better?"

"We all have our secrets, Paige," Alison tells her. "Some of us are just better at hiding them. And solving them."

"Yeah?" Paige asks sarcastically. "If you're _so_ good at solving mysteries, Alison, then why can't you figure this one out?"

Alison shakes her head. "I don't know."

Paige nods, as if it's the answer she's anticipated. "Keep your flowers and your apology. I don't want anything from you."

It's nothing Alison wasn't expecting, so she moves on. At least she's trying; it's the thought that counts, really. It's pushing two o'clock, now, and there's only about an hour or so left of the school day, which makes perfect conditions for visiting the next on her list. She's prepared for the worst or the best reaction from Ezra Fitz, really, because, truthfully, it could go either way. It's why he's directly in the middle of her list; she never knows what to expect from him and is sure _Jekyll and Hyde_ is his autobiography. Mentally, Alison is already gone. Her mind is no longer in the moment, because she only has a few people left to apologize to before she can finally fade into the background like she'd grown accustomed to doing.

She knocks on his classroom door and he doesn't look up when he tells her to come in. So she says, "I brought you some flowers to brighten up your classroom, Mr. Fitz."

At the sound of her voice, Ezra's eyes snap to hers and the papers he was grading are all but lost. "How did you get in here?"

"You work in a high school, not the FBI," Alison jokes. "I'm eighteen; I blend in."

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Ezra asks. "I'm busy."

"Don't be like that," Alison says, taking a seat in the front row. "You're not sexy when you're angry. Most guys are, but you… Not so much."

"Good thing I didn't ask your opinion," Ezra frowns. "What do you want from me? I think you've done enough."

"Oh honey, I'm just getting started," Alison chuckles. "You can't keep me away forever. You should know that better than anyone."

"I always thought you stayed away because you were scared," Ezra observes. "And rightfully so, but you don't look very scared to me."

"So someone's trying to kill me," Alison shrugs. "Same old, same old. I just wish they'd get it over with, already. It's getting really old."

Ezra says, "You don't have to pretend you're strong, Alison. It's okay to be scared."

"No it's not," Alison disagrees. "Especially now. They're waiting for me to make a mistake, to slip up, and I'm not going to give them that satisfaction."

"I thought maybe you came here to ask for help," Ezra says and Alison scoffs.

"The day I ask for your help will be the day they put me in the ground," Alison snorts. "Dead, this time."

"Then why are you here?" He implores.

"To apologize," She shrugs. "I thought maybe you should know that I _am_ sorry I lied to you, you know, about everything."

Ezra's quiet a moment before nodding. "Okay."

"That's it?" Alison quirks an eyebrow. "Wow, I thought you'd put up more of a fight."

"It's over," He says with finality. "We never did anything and you're alive so… We can put it behind us and move forward without a guilty conscience."

Alison nods and moves towards the door. "Alright. But you're going to miss me when I'm gone."

"I didn't miss you before," Ezra deadpans. "What makes you think now would be any different?"

She shrugs. "Whatever you say, Mr. Fitz."

He frowns at the name, as if he'd expected her to use less formality, and motions towards the flowers she'd bestowed upon his desk. "I don't want these."

"Neither does anyone else," Alison tells him. "Keep them. The purple hyacinths are a symbol of apology. Who knows; maybe you could give them to Aria."

It's clear she's baiting him, teasing in that evil way she does, and she can see Ezra bite his tongue to hold back a response. In the doorway, Alison turns back to say, "Oh, and your book? Not great. You spelled my name wrong and you promised you wouldn't."

With that, she's out the door in search of another person she'd find in these very halls. The school is emptying out, now, and she waits at the bottom of the steps for Lucas to emerge, sidestepping strangers and avoiding those who could recognize she is waiting, vulnerably, out in the open. When Lucas does exit the school doors, Alison snatches his arm and drags him behind the great oak tree, ignoring his look of surprise and terror rolled into one. Lucas is another casualty of her pointless hatred; he'd never done anything especially awful to her. But she's notorious for hating those she deems useless and Lucas is, unfortunately, no exception. He glances around, looking for those watching, but there's no one. Alison has grabbed no one's attention but his and she'd like to keep it that way.

"Listen up, hermy, because I'm only going to say this once," Alison starts and when Lucas grimaces at the nickname, she adds, "Sorry. Old habits die hard, you know?"

"Save it," Lucas says, but his voice is wavering. "I don't want to hear what you have to say."

"I'm here to apologize to you, okay?" Alison insists. "I did a lot of shitty things to a lot of people and I know it wasn't right. I'm sorry. I am."

"I don't believe you," Lucas shakes his head. "You don't apologize to anyone ever."

"Call it turning over a new leaf," Alison tells him. "I don't want to be that person anymore. It's gotten me nowhere and it's turned this whole town against me."

Lucas deadpans, "Isn't it a bit too late for you to realize that?"

"Maybe it is," Alison shrugs. "Maybe it isn't."

"What are you saying?" Lucas asks nervously, wringing his hands.

"I just want you to know I was wrong," She says. "I know you aren't a hermaphrodite and I'm sorry for spreading that rumor. It was unnecessary, immature and really stupid."

"I'm not going to disagree," Lucas frowns.

"I just wanted you to know that in case…" She trails off, looking him in the eye. "In case you want to change your mind."

"About what?" Lucas probes, his voice cracking. "What are you trying to say?"

Alison shakes her head, placing a hand on his shoulder and whispering, "You're better than them, okay? You don't think so, but you are."

The look of utter horror on Lucas's face returns and Alison departs their conversation, turning instead towards the town. She has one person left and one person only before she can finally go. She'd left Toby last on purpose; perhaps she'd been the most awful to him, perhaps she hadn't, but either way, she knew he'd forgive her. It's in his nature; it's what she'd seen in him the moment they'd first spoken. He doesn't hold grudges and there probably isn't an evil bone in his body. He'll be angry with her, of course, and justifiably so, but Alison knows that things will most likely blow over. He's living away from home now- Alison can't blame him for that- and so she finds herself trudging up the stairs to the apartment above The Brew, suddenly exhausted from her day's activities.

When he pulls open the door, his eyes widen and Alison has to remember this is the first time he's seeing her since she'd been pulled from the ground. "Alison?"

"Toby," She acknowledges. "Can I come in? We should talk."

"About what?" He asks when the surprise wanes a bit.

"Believe what you want, but I actually came here with an apology," Alison tells him. "Would you like to hear it?"

Toby nods and allows her entrance into his home. She glances around the loft and tries to imagine Toby's life now, but she doesn't have to look far to find it. Spencer is on his couch, surrounded by books and highlighters and index cards, and she's not quite as welcoming as Toby had been. She asks, "What are you doing here?"

"She came to apologize," Toby defends but Alison knows it's over, now; the jig is up.

Spencer's mask of confusion melts into one of anger instead. "Like _hell_ she did. I already told you- you are _not_ running again!"

Alison sighs. "Busted."

* * *

Maybe he's more naïve than he ever thought, but Toby had honestly believed Alison had shown up this afternoon in nothing but good nature. He should have known better; never in a million years would Alison DiLaurentis do something without an ulterior motive. He should have realized that all of the death and drama and despair that she had caused since she'd been gone and since she'd returned would make her want to skip town all over again. He should have figured this all out, but he didn't, because even after all this time, even after everything she's done to him and everyone he cares about, Toby still wants to believe that there might just be some good left in Alison DiLaurentis.

He's probably wrong, though. Spencer had allowed Alison to make her apology, the brief one that it was, before ripping into her about how careless she was being in leaving them all behind. Alison had disagreed and had told her she was looking out for them by leaving; there wouldn't be any more death, she figured. Spencer hadn't agreed; after all, there was plenty of death before Alison had returned, why would her departure make things different? From there, the argument took many twists and turns before Spencer finally ended it, saying enough was enough, and placing Alison under house arrest. An S.O.S. text was sent out and before Toby knew it, his loft was filled with the other three girls and he felt like an incredible outsider in his own home.

Now he's watching all of them argue and it's not that he minds the company; truly, he doesn't. He loves Spencer and he loves her friends, but this is getting to be too much. Alison is angry with the girls for holding her back, the girls are angry with Alison for betraying them, and Toby's not sure whether he's coming or going. All he knows is, the yelling and the carrying on aren't going to solve anything. Truthfully, he'd enjoyed the apology; it wasn't going to take away all the suffering, the mistreatment or the pain, but it may have dulled it a little. If Alison truly meant it, that is, and there is really no way to be sure with her. Finally, he's had enough. He can't listen to it anymore; it's getting them nowhere.

"I appreciate the apology," Toby tells Alison, the first thing he'd said since the argument started. "But I think you should stay and finish what you started."

"Oh, suddenly you have an opinion?" Alison probes icily.

"Shut up, Alison, he's right," Spencer shoots back. "We want to end this and you can't possibly think you're not involved."

"-A isn't going to be satisfied until he or she has you," Hanna says. "Obviously we're not going to throw you to the wolves, but you're still an important part of figuring this whole thing out."

"Think about all of the people you've hurt," Aria puts in. "All the people who have died because of this. You can't just let that go. They deserve justice and so do we."

"If I left," Alison proposes. "If we _all_ left, that wouldn't be an issue anymore. We can leave it all behind. We can forget there even is an –A and we can just go."

"We've told you before, we're not running," Emily argues back. "That's not the way to solve anything!"

"It's the coward's way out!" Aria agrees.

"Well you guys are stupid if you think there's a possible end to this," Alison sneers. "It's an endless cycle. It was Mona and now it's not but even if we take whoever this is down, it'll just end up being someone else later on."

"Why would you say that?"

"That's not true!"

"Guys," Spencer shouts, breaking up the brewing argument. "Stop. I might have an idea."

"Really?"

"Hanna's right," Spencer says and the blonde in question grins excitedly. "-A's not going to stop. He or she or whoever it is wants you, Ali. That's all they want."

Alison frowns. "So you _are_ going to turn me over to her."

"No," Spencer disagrees. "But she won't know that, will she?"

The others lean forward, intrigued, and listen in on Spencer's plan. Toby watches her lay out every last detail; it was to happen at prom, because they all know how much –A loves a spectacle. The plan is this- they would all be strategically placed on the perimeter with the authorities on speed dial and no outlet from which –A could escape. They would offer Alison up as live bait, but always with a backup plan in mind; when –A would strike, so would they. The others are amazed by the elaborate heist, but Toby isn't. If anyone could get them out of this predicament, if anyone was the key to this whole thing coming together, if anyone was their only hope, it's Spencer. He watches the fire ignite within her eyes, the one that's always there when she's fiercely passionate about something, and grins because everyday, every single day, she does something that amazes him.

"So we're agreed?" Spencer asks. "Prom night, like towards the end?"

"Sounds perfect," Aria nods and glances towards Alison. "And you don't go anywhere until that night, got it?"

"Fine," Alison purses her lips, not used to taking orders from others. "I'll do it. But if this doesn't work, if we can't pull it off, then I'm out of here for _good_."

None of them agree with her decision, but another argument is not in their cards right now. Alison stands and makes a dramatic exit from the loft, thoroughly sure of herself and her decision, even if Spencer's plan sounds foolproof. On her way out, however, her phone buzzes in her pocket; her tormentor has awakened.

"_I'm sorry, I'm sorry, the blonde bitch said. But you didn't apologize to me- now you're dead. –A._"


	11. Eleven

**Good morning friends! How about that premiere, huh? The first fifteen minutes were so dull and I was like, "Oh no!" But then it picked up a little. I legitimately laughed out loud when Emily was like, "Now it's finally over!" Yeah, right. You just got two more seasons, babe. Try again. ;) Also, as will be evident in this chapter, the show and I are doing something very, _very_ different with Ezra. Like we're not even in the same ballpark. As of today, since season 5 premiered last night, this story is officially AU. What whaaaat. :D**

**Thank you for your reviews on the last chapter! I really enjoyed reading them and I'm glad you liked a little bit of perspective from Alison. She was challenging but enjoyable to write. I also hope you like this chapter, because I don't know if it makes me sound like an ass (probably does), but it's one of my personal favorites. Have a lovely day and I'll see you soon! Or, hear from you soon. Technically I'm never going to see any of you, am I?**

* * *

Eleven

April showers may bring May flowers, but the storm that's about to hit Rosewood this early Wednesday evening will be anything but a mere sprinkling. Right now, it's the calm before the storm. The winds are picking up steadily, but otherwise, the atmosphere outside is still; there are no birds chirping, no bees buzzing by, and not a soul in sight. It's as if they know what will become of them if they stay for the downpour, the inevitable onslaught of rain. Dark and thick grey clouds blanket the sky, full and aching with the desire to let loose. There's a low rumble of thunder from above, a white-hot flash of lightning, and another, much louder thunderous roar before the sky gives in. The clouds open like a portal and heavy raindrops pound the roof above her head.

Spencer's watching from the window, glad she's been home for a couple of hours because she would not want to travel in this. It's barely four o'clock and yet her house is dark as though it were the middle of the night. The lights that illuminate the room she's in dim a bit as rain pounds against the panes of glass and Spencer's praying there won't be a power outage. It would not only throw a wrench in her plan, but also remind her of a time she'd care not to remember. As much as she doesn't want to, whenever a thunderstorm plagues the town she is always transported to that awful night; lightning had lit up her kitchen to reveal the person she counted on, the person she _depended_ on, with a look of guilt and shame on his face, as he stood there in the black hoodie of betrayal.

She shakes her head of these thoughts as that very same person enters the room, now, and his voice is still soft even against the pouring rain. "It's really coming down out there."

"Yeah," She agrees. "I hope we don't lose power."

"Want me to build a fire?" He offers and she nods.

"Sure," Spencer turns for the kitchen. "I'll make some popcorn."

They'd made plans to watch a movie, but by the time they were snuggled beneath a blanket on her couch, warm from both the fire and each other's company, they couldn't decide on what to watch. So instead, they'd flipped through the HBO channels and compromised by deciding to watch the sixth _Harry Potter_ movie, even though it's only playing in Spanish. Toby asks, "Anymore hidden talents I should know about? I mean, you speak Spanish too?"

"No," Spencer disagrees. "But it's a romance language, like French, and a lot of the terminology is very similar. Plus it helps that I know the story in English, like I told you."

Toby shakes his head. "I don't think I've ever seen the entire series."

Spencer gasps and a popcorn kernel nearly lodges itself in her throat. "Are you kidding? _Harry Potter_ was my life as a kid. Did you at least read the books?"

Again, he shakes his head. "I read the first two. I got bored."

She's even more scandalized by this. "You can't be serious! _Everyone_ read _Harry Potter_!"

"Oh come on, Spencer, _Chamber of Secrets_ was a drag," Toby argues. "And I couldn't pronounce that one about the prison, so I just gave up."

"Azkaban?" Spencer fills in. "It's not even that hard. It's pronounced the way it's spelled."

"I was like eight," Toby laughs. "Cut me some slack."

"Okay," She grins. "But how are you supposed to know what's going on if you aren't caught up?"

"I guess I won't," He shrugs. "It's fine. The movie's not really the reason I'm here."

If possible, her grin grows wider, because she knows it's true. Their alone time had been rudely interrupted yesterday and this is her way of trying to make up for it. She says, "I'm sorry about yesterday. I didn't mean to turn your living room into the Nancy Drew Headquarters."

Toby smirks. "It's okay. It didn't bother me."

"I know, but I still feel bad," Spencer insists. "I mean I didn't really have a right to invite the –A brigade over to an apartment that isn't even mine."

"Spencer, don't make it a big deal. It isn't," He tells her. "And I've told you before, you are always welcome. Your guests are too… Most of them."

She doesn't have to ask to know who isn't. Feeling cheeky, she says, "I'm glad to hear you say that because we've been talking about where to have our prom after party and you _are_ the only with your own place…"

He glances at her, amused. "Oh really? We're throwing a party, now?"

"Well we've got to do something to celebrate, right?"

"Isn't prom the celebration?"

"Prom's just the beginning."

Toby chuckles, playing along. "And how many people should I expect?"

Spencer pretends to consider this. "Well our graduating class is about two hundred, but not _everyone's_ going to prom…"

"So let's say about one-fifty, then?" Toby teases. "As long as that guy on your decathlon team doesn't come, I'm good."

"Andrew?" Spencer wrinkles her nose. "He's harmless."

"I don't like the way he looks at you."

"You say that about everyone!"

"Yeah, well, everyone needs back off."

"You're overreacting; isn't that what you tell me all the time?" Spencer challenges. "Alpha male, much?"

"You better believe it," He agrees and leans in to kiss her.

She's still holding the popcorn bowl, but her free hand curls into his hair. He tastes sinfully salty, but before she can indulge in this, he pulls away. "Speaking of prom, you bought the tickets, right? You didn't find some sneaky way to give the money back to me?"

"I got them on Monday," She informs him. "And if you think I'm not paying you back, you're wrong."

"Nice try," He disagrees. "We are not arguing about this."

"I know. Because I'm paying you back."

"You are not."

"Yes I am!"

"No, you're not. Let it go."

She reaches into the bowl and tosses a handful of popcorn his way. It beans him in the chin and he looks dismayed as he says, "You did not just throw popcorn at me."

"Really?" She replies, bouncing kernels off his forehead. "I think I did."

Toby scoops a handful from the bowl; two can play at this game. The kernels bounce off her nose and cheeks, a couple get stuck in her hair, and she laughs. "Hey!"

"Do not 'hey' me," He insists, throwing more. "You started it."

"You're going to regret it," Spencer warns him, popcorn flying from her hands. "I play to win."

"I wouldn't expect anything less," Toby says and things escalate from there.

The bowl eventually empties and is overturned on the floor. The movie's forgotten and there's popcorn _everywhere_, but they're not really concerned with that, right now. The moment the last of the popcorn is thrown, Spencer pulls Toby on top of her and reconnects their lips, because the preview she'd gotten moments earlier simply hadn't been enough to satisfy her. She can tell he feels the same; he responds in earnest, both arms curling around her torso, his hands everywhere at once. She knows relationships have their ups and downs and she and Toby had certainly had plenty of both, but she wishes they could always be like this. She wants to always be this happy and she knows, with all of her heart, she is only this happy when she's with him.

* * *

Just when she's actually completing her homework on time for once, Hanna's laptop fades into the blue screen of death. She curses at it endlessly for a good portion of an hour before calling in reinforcements. Most of the time, whenever she has a problem she can't solve, she consults the Internet. This time, unfortunately, the broken computer renders this impossible. She doesn't know anyone who can fix technology quite like Caleb can and since they'd mended fences somewhat over the past month, she calls him in for some repairs. By the time he arrives at her house, he looks like a drowned rat and it's only after he's shivering on her doormat that the storm decides to let up.

Hanna gets him a towel and hangs his coat above the sink. "At least the rain stopped, right? You won't get any wetter."

"Sure," Caleb smirks. "So where's this computer?"

"I don't think you'll be able to fix it," Hanna expresses solemnly. "The blue screen is a bad thing, isn't it?"

"It's definitely not good," Caleb agrees and at Hanna's panicked look, he adds, "But let me see what I can do."

"I'm sorry I called you," Hanna tells him, presenting him with the laptop as he sinks into a kitchen chair. "I'm sure you were busy with more important things, but I didn't know what to do."

"Well first of all, always back up your files to removable hardware," He insists, handing her a thumb drive. "Keep it. I've got like a hundred. And second, there's not much to busy myself with at a motel. The neighbors to my left run the TV all night and the neighbors to my right have sex at least ten times a day."

She's sure he's said it to lighten the mood, but Hanna can't help but feel sorry for him. "You're staying at the motel?"

"I was staying with Toby for a while," Caleb explains. "But then Jenna died and I didn't want to impose on him any longer, so when the motel had vacancy, I took a spot."

She nods softly in understanding, but she's seen that motel and it's certainly no Ritz Carlton. Caleb pulls what looks like a glasses case out of his bag and opens it to reveal a slew of miniature tools. "Okay, let's see what we've got."

He turns the computer off and unscrews the bottom, opening it up so the bowels spill onto the table. "Wow, your hard drive's fried."

"Is that bad?" Hanna asks again and Caleb nods.

"Could be worse, though," He tells her and begins working his magic. She watches him work steadily and then he asks, "So you going to prom?"

"Of course," She agrees. "Who would miss their senior prom? I just never thought I'd be going stag."

"Yeah," He says quietly, knowing what she's referencing. "Well call me crazy, but since I'm going stag and you're going stag… We could just go together."

Hanna hesitates before adding, "As friends."

"Right," Caleb nods all too quickly. "As friends."

He removes what looks like a piece of spy equipment from the laptop's insides and blows on it; about ten years' worth of dust flies off, but Caleb can spot the problem. A little tweak here, a little adjustment there and then he's placing it back within the computer. He pulls something from his little kit and places that inside as well, as a precaution, Hanna assumes, or maybe as a Band-Aid. Screwing the bottom back into place, Caleb flips open the screen and presses the power button. It illuminates as it's supposed to and clocks for a moment or two before the login screen pops up as if its past hiccup hadn't happened. Caleb grins and turns the screen to Hanna; he's done it again.

"Oh my god! You fixed it!" Hanna exclaims in excitement. "I thought I'd have to buy a new one!"

"No," Caleb disagrees. "I mean, it was _bad_, but it wasn't unfixable."

"Thank you!" She grins and when he stands, she embraces him. "You're amazing!"

"You're welcome," He expresses softly. "It was nothing, really."

She pulls back from the hug, but doesn't remove her arms from his neck and his don't fall from her waist. When Hanna looks him in the eye, she sees something she hadn't seen since he'd returned from Ravenswood. He's been apologizing over and over, trying to repent for his mistakes, but in her eyes, the nature of their relationship had been forever changed. When she looked at him before, she saw someone she didn't recognize, because Caleb had _always_ been there for her until the day he wasn't. But now, there's something there she didn't see before, something that hadn't been there since he'd left her. She sees Caleb; she sees _her_ Caleb, the one she'd fallen in love with, the one she'd begged not to leave.

He senses this change too, because a moment later, his lips are on hers and she isn't pushing him away. At least, not at first. She lets him kiss her, lets herself relish in what she's been missing for so long, before pulling away slightly. Caleb's immediately apologetic, saying, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean-"

"I don't want to go to prom as friends," Hanna admits instead. "I don't want to _be_ just friends with you, Caleb. But I don't want to start over if you're just going to leave again."

"I'm not going to leave," Caleb says firmly. "I've told you, leaving Rosewood, leaving _you_, was the biggest mistake I've ever made. I love you, Hanna, and that's the only reason I need to stay here."

"Then why wasn't it enough last time?" Hanna implores. "Why didn't you stay?"

"Because I was stupid," He tells her. "I was selfish. I didn't put you first and I should have."

"You don't have to put me first all the time," Hanna shakes her head. "You're allowed to be selfish sometimes. But you have to give me a reason other than it's complicated."

"I'm sorry, Hanna," Caleb says. "I really, really am."

"I know," Hanna replies. "But I just need to know one thing."

"Anything."

"That girl- Miranda?" Hanna asks. "Were you two… involved?"

"It's complicated," He says and Hanna exhales heavily.

"Caleb!"

"No, I'm going to explain. I just want you to know I wasn't lying; it really is complicated," Caleb informs her. "Ravenswood is different than what you guys think. It has roots in the supernatural and everyone who lives there is very, very superstitious. They thought I came to them to fulfill some prophecy; they thought Miranda and I were soul mates."

Hanna frowns but wants to know, "Are you?"

"I don't think we're anything; Miranda's dead," Caleb sighs. "And I don't believe in soul mates. But if I did… I don't think she'd be mine."

Hanna then asks, "Miranda's dead?"

Caleb nods slowly. "I shouldn't have left and I shouldn't have gotten involved in the first place. But I never stopped loving you, Hanna. Not once."

"What a coincidence," Hanna says. "Neither did I."

She kisses him again and only then does that inner turmoil she's been experiencing since he'd left finally quiet.

* * *

"Okay, differentiation using the product rule. I suck at these."

"Em."

"Differentiate y where it equals x cubed plus seven x minus one times-"

"Em!"

"- five x plus two. I literally don't even know where to start."

"_Emily!_"

"What?" Emily shoots back and notices her friend's panic.

Aria's nodding out the window of The Grille. "Someone's watching us. Do you see them?"

Emily shakes her head at first, trying to follow the petite brunette's line of vision. "Where? I don't see anything."

"Over there, by the tree," Aria says under her breath as though the figure could hear her. "They're dressed in all black and acting really sketchy."

After a beat, Emily sees what she's talking about. Ducking behind the tree across the street is a figure in all black and it seems, from this angle, that their eyes almost glow. For a while, Aria and Emily try to finish their calculus problems without a second glance toward their stalker, but when they've finished, the figure is still there. It could be anyone, technically, but their minds immediately go to –A. Without hesitation, they call in the other two and keep an eye on the figure as they wait for them to arrive. It takes them longer than usual to respond to their S.O.S. text and when they finally arrive, it's clear to both Emily and Aria that the other two weren't spending their Wednesday night holed up doing calculus homework.

"Why are you so late?" Emily asks, eyeing Spencer. "Why do you have popcorn in your hair?"

Spencer plucks it from her curls and tosses it aground, irrelevant. "Don't worry about it."

"Hanna, your shirt's on backwards," Aria observes and Hanna shrugs, her hands on her hips.

"No it's not. That's the style," She insists. "What's going on?"

"There's someone over there," Emily nods again towards the tree. "Someone's watching us."

All eight eyes land on the figure and then, he or she takes off. Aria balks, "Wait! We have to follow them! It could be –A!"

Just as they begin to walk with a purpose down the street, a text is sent to Aria's phone reading, "_Shot through the heart and you're to blame. You're never gonna catch me and you'll never know my name. –A_."

They shake their heads free of the message, sure it's just –A teasing them as she enjoys to do. But they've almost lost her, so they begin to pick up the pace. Just then, they see the hooded figure at the end of the street and when she notices the four girls, she darts off. When they grow closer, they hear a voice. "Aria?"

Because of course Ezra Fitz knows they're there. And of course he's going to hold them up just when they've finally caught a break. "Ezra, I can't do this right now."

"Are you in danger?" He asks as the girls continue to move. "Why are you running?"

"We're following someone," Aria says shortly. "Please leave us alone."

"You're following someone?" He repeats, keeping up at a slight jog. "Are you following –A? Without being armed? That's insanely dangerous."

"Wow, Colonel Obvious," Hanna retorts. "Wouldn't have figured that out without you."

Spencer smirks but corrects, "It's Captain Obvious."

"Not anymore," Hanna disagrees. "I demoted him."

"Let me help you," Ezra insists. "You might need protection."

"Yeah," Emily deadpans. "Might need someone to take a bullet for us."

Ezra shoots her a look but Aria fields this instead. "We really don't need help."

"Well I can't let you go off into danger alone," Ezra refuses. "I'm involved, now."

Aria considers this and chances a glance at the firm other three before conceding. "Fine. Just, come on."

Immediately afterward, another text is sent her way. "_I tried to reason with you, Aria, but you just wouldn't listen. Don't say I didn't warn you. –A_."

Again, they're not sure what this is in reference to, exactly, but they let it go anyway. If they worried about every single text –A threw their way, all four of them would be permanent patients at Radley Sanitarium. Spencer and Emily hang back a bit, conversing about the newest addition to their sleuthing team under their breaths, because they just can't grasp that Aria had believed Ezra was being sincere. Emily wonders if Ezra is helping the elusive figure, Spencer wonders if Ezra _is_ the elusive figure, and neither one of them trust him worth a damn. It doesn't matter; by the time they reach the corner of the street, they've completely lost the person they'd been following. Coincidence or not?

"Wait, I think I just saw her over there," Hanna says suddenly, pointing to the left. "Yeah, there's definitely someone running down that street."

And just as they're about to follow her lead, Emily glances over her shoulder and notices, "But there's someone going that way, too. I definitely just saw someone turn the corner and head into the alley."

"There's two of them now?" Aria questions. "Is this ever going to end?"

"We need to split up," Spencer declares. "Hanna and I will go left, the rest of you go right."

Ezra and Aria take off towards the alley and Emily shoots her friend a look, as if she's gone insane. Spencer reasons, "I really don't think Aria should be left alone with him, do you?"

Emily agrees; she'll have to give her this one. Without another word, they split up. Spencer and Hanna follow their hooded figure down one street, up another, and into the park. They're chasing her around trees, over benches and down beaten paths before finally, she comes to the end of the line. There's a gate sectioning off the playground that's under construction and a thicker patch of trees on the other side; this –A, whomever she is, is trapped. But when she turns around, it's clear she is not a she at all. There is no way the physique of the figure before them can belong to a woman. And when he peels off his hood, their suspicions are confirmed. For it's not any of their –A contenders beneath that hoodie. It's Lucas.

"Lucas?" Hanna questions in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Why are you in a hoodie?" Spencer asks. "Why were you following us?"

"Lucas," Hanna then says, a bit softer. "Are you –A?"

"No," He insists. "I didn't mean to get your attention. I was just supposed to… I didn't mean it!"

"You didn't mean what?" Spencer probes cautiously. "What did you do?"

"What _didn't_ I do?" Lucas breaks down. "I hate Alison! I hate her! And that bitch deserves worse than what they're doing to her. But I don't want to do it anymore. I can't."

"Mona said you're on the –A Team," Hanna says. "Is it true?"

"When she approached me," Lucas begins. "She never said we'd be… It wasn't supposed to be like this. Mona's crazy, we all know that, but she's not in charge anymore."

"Who is?" Spencer asks and Lucas frowns.

"I can't tell you!" He cries remorsefully. "I want it to stop! I just want it to stop!"

"It will stop," Hanna tells him sympathetically. "It will. We're trying to stop it, too. But you need to tell us who it is. You do know, don't you? Mona says she doesn't know."

"Mona knows," Lucas disagrees. "Mona always knows more than she's letting on. She's the one who told me."

"Who it was?"

"Why I couldn't get away," Lucas groans. "I don't want any part of this. It's not what I signed up for."

Spencer then wonders, "Are you afraid, Lucas, that they'll kill you if you tell?"

"Of course!" Lucas bellows. "You've seen how easy it is for them to kill everyone else. I don't want to die! There has to be another way out."

"Lucas, we're friends, no matter what you believe," Hanna insists. "We have been suffering under the same monster for two years. If you would just help us, just a little bit… If you could tell us anything you know, we could put an end to this. It could all be over tonight."

Spencer adds, "Tell us who it is and we can prevent anyone else from being killed."

But Lucas shakes his head. "It's too late. It's already too late."

"What do you mean it's too late?"

"Why? What's happening?"

Suddenly, the unmistakable sound of a gunshot rings through the air. Spencer and Hanna jump with the sound and a nagging feeling within both of them tells them something isn't quite right. A chill runs down their spines, the hair on the napes of their necks stands on end and when they glance back in Lucas's direction, he's gone. They whirl around in all directions, but there's no sign of him. There are no tracks on the wet muddy ground, either; it's almost as if he'd vanished into thin air. It's almost like he'd never been there at all. They can't dwell too long upon that, though. The gunshot has drawn them to the sound like a moth to a flame. They depart the park and sprint in the direction of the sound, fearing the worst.

Hearts pounding and breathing coming in quick, short gasps, Spencer and Hanna's feet pound against the wet pavement as they approach the alley into which their friends had disappeared. Their minds are on nothing but Emily and Aria and the thought that something horrible could have happened to either of them fills their stomachs with a pit of dread. Fear courses through their veins as they grow closer and hear the unambiguous sound of harsh, gut-wrenching sobs. When they round the corner, the first thing they see is Emily's wide-eyed, horrified visage, her face immensely pale. The next thing they see is Aria, crumpled in a heap on the ground, tears pouring from her eyes and her entire body shaking violently. And, finally, beneath her, a body; Ezra Fitz, with blood bubbling from his mouth, his eyes still open in shock, and a gaping hole in his chest.

There's no sign of –A, but that doesn't mean she doesn't leave the four girls with a message to remember her by.

"_A tisket, a tasket, Fitz is in a casket. Got him this time! –A._"


	12. Twelve

**Good morning friends! Happy Friday! Hopefully it's nicer where you are than it is here, because I kid you not, it's been raining for a week straight here. Boo weather, you whore. Anyway, thanks for your feedback on the last chapter! I'm glad you enjoyed the happy Spoby scene for a while and I wish I could say it was going to last. :P Also, I would just like to point out that killing Ezra was my idea before it was the show's. Seriously. When he got shot in the season 4 finale I was like, "Wow you copycats." Lol I know one will believe me, but that's okay. I know the truth. :P**

**I'm going to Boston this weekend so no writing will get done, but that's okay anyway because GUESS WHO FINISHED THE LAST CHAPTER OF THIS STORY WEDNESDAY NIGHT?! Yeah, this girl. Get puuuumped. Or don't. Doesn't really matter to me. I'm excited enough for all of you. Okay enjoy this chapter and have a great weekend!**

* * *

Twelve

By the time the police arrive, Aria's sobs have quieted. It's merely been ten minutes since Spencer and Hanna arrived on the scene, but it's already felt like an eternity. Emily's completely in shock; the look on her face she'd had the moment Spencer and Hanna had emerged around the corner has not yet worn off. Hanna's shaking; she can't stop shaking. She can't tear her eyes off of their English teacher, most likely conflicted about what she should be feeling right now. Aria's sobs had turned into shaky breathing, but before she stands, she reaches out and closes Ezra's eyes, because if he doesn't look like he's still watching them, then maybe, just maybe, he could be sleeping.

The coroner pronounces Ezra dead on the scene, which surprises no one. It's pretty hard to survive a bullet straight through the heart. They load him into a body bag and into the dark van, pulling away from the scene as the police section off the alleyway to prevent anyone from disrupting the crime scene. It surprises no one on the force that Aria, Emily, Hanna and Spencer are accompanying the body; it seems wherever these four girls go, death is sure to follow. They bring the girls away from the area in order for forensics to examine each and every inch of that dark alley, but the girls are just glad they don't have to stand in the space where Ezra died, where his blood painted the brick wall behind him, where Aria and Emily had watched Ezra take his final breath.

The police begin questioning them one at a time and they start with Aria. Spencer watches as they gently take her by the arm and lead her away from the others, but it isn't far enough away to mute what they're asking. "We're going to ask you a few questions, okay Miss Montgomery?"

Aria flinches and is looking everywhere but at the officer. "Okay."

"Can you tell me how you found yourself in the alley this evening?"

"Someone… Someone was watching… We were at the Grille-"

"The Apple Rose Grille?" The officer asks and Aria nods curtly. "Who's 'we'?"

"Me and Emily," Aria says. "We were at the Grille and someone was watching. It was dark, we couldn't see, we ran but we lost them and there was one but then there were two and we split up and Ezra was there and then… Then they were in the alley and they had a gun and I don't know who it was but they got away."

She's rambling endlessly, lost in her anger and grief. The officer asks gently, "Can you describe the person who shot your friend?"

Aria shakes her head. "He wasn't my friend."

"Okay," The officer says. "Can you describe the person who shot the deceased?"

"No," Aria says. "It was dark and they were wearing black."

"Man or woman?"

"I don't know."

"Approximate height? Weight? Any distinguishing features?"

"I don't know."

"Did you witness the shooting? Were you in the alley at the time of the murder?"

Aria nods and tears again fall from her eyes. "Yes."

The officer places a gentle hand on her arm. "That will be all for now, Miss Montgomery. I'm sorry for your loss."

He then approaches Emily. "Miss Fields?"

She nods, the look of shock not melting from her face. "I was with her. In the alley. We both saw, but I don't know who it was. It was impossible to tell."

"I understand," The officer nods. "But any clue could help us track down the suspect."

"He or she was wearing a hoodie, a black hoodie, and dark jeans," Emily says. "But that's really all I can tell you."

"Can you tell me the time you left the Grille and found yourself in the alley?"

"We got to the Grille around six," Emily calculates. "So we must've… I don't know, eight, eight-thirty, maybe?"

"And what is your relationship to the deceased?"

"He was my English teacher," Emily says. "But I didn't have a personal relationship with him."

"Now how did you come to be in the alley?" The officer asks.

"Like Aria said," Emily prefaces. "We were doing homework at the Grille and we noticed someone watching us. We called our other friends and started to follow them, but we split up when we noticed there were two different hooded people. We followed ours into an alley, demanded they reveal themselves and instead, they pulled out a gun and shot Ezra. We were too occupied with him to notice where they went after. They got away."

"I just have one more question for you," The officer says. "If you were with your friends trying to chase this person watching you, where does the victim come into play? How did he know you were there?"

Emily shrugs. "I don't know."

The officer nods and then beckons, "Miss Marin?"

Hanna's still jittery, still shaking. She doesn't accept the blanket or coffee they offer her and jumps when the officer greets her. "Miss Marin, where were you this evening around six p.m.?"

"At home, doing homework," She answers quickly. "Why?"

"Relax," The officer says. "I'm just getting a sense of how you came into this situation."

"My laptop was broken," Hanna emits. "You know the blue screen of death and how it's basically the kiss of death for computers? Well I have this friend- well, technically he's more than a friend and I guess he always has been- but he came over and fixed it for me and then we kind of got back together. We broke up when he left town but he's back and at first I didn't think we'd get back together but we did. So Emily sent a text saying someone was watching her and Aria so Spencer and I came to the Grille and tried to help out and-"

"Take a deep breath, Miss Marin," The officer pleads. "It was a simple question."

"I'm sorry," Hanna says instantly. "Death makes me really nervous."

"Well you're doing fine," The officer assures her. "Tell me how you came to be in the alley."

"We split up when we realized there were two of them," Hanna explains. "Spencer and I followed one, but it ended up being a friend of mine and… He just wanted to talk. Aria and Emily followed the real one and we heard a gunshot so we started running. Then we found them."

"And you didn't see this hooded figure leaving the scene?"

"No."

"And you don't know if it's a man or a woman? Or what race or height or weight they might be?"

"No."

"Miss Marin," The officer sighs. "Do you know any information that could be useful for us to locate the perpetrator?"

Hanna shakes her head. "No."

"Well then, you're free to go," The officer frowns and turns to his final victim. "Miss Hastings? You're up."

By the time Spencer's turn arrives, however, she is completely numb. She can see the look of horror on Emily's face and watches as her arms wrap around Aria in a source of comfort. She can see Aria, her eyes firmly trained on the dark pool of blood on the pavement, her face cold and hardened. She can see Hanna, determined to busy herself with any and everything around her, trying to look everywhere but at the crime scene she'd just left. Spencer can see all of this along with the patches of police, the bright yellow caution tape and the flashing red and blue lights, but she can't take it all in. She can't process it. She can hear the sirens, but they sound as though they're coming to her through a tunnel and she can see the officer's mouth moving before her, but she can't quite grasp what he's saying.

"Miss Hastings," He tries again. "I need you to try and tell me what happened."

Spencer shakes her head, unable. "I-I don't know."

"Where were you this evening?"

"At home," She says, her voice sounding foreign, even to her.

"And how did you get to the alley?"

"We ran, Hanna and I," Spencer elaborates. "We heard the shot and we ran."

"And did you see who shot the deceased?"

"No."

"Does the deceased have any enemies that you know of? Anyone that would want to do him harm?"

"I don't know."

"How did the deceased know you and your friends were out this evening?"

"I don't know."

"Was the suspect leaving the scene as you and Miss Marin approached it?"

"I…" Spencer pauses to think and only then realizes she cannot remember. "I don't know."

"Miss Hastings," The officer is still gentle even though she can tell his frustration is mounting. "Is there anything you _can_ tell us?"

She can't answer verbally, but she can feel herself shake her head. The officer nods and tells her he's sorry for her loss. Spencer's not sure why. She doesn't feel sorry for her loss; in fact, she doesn't feel much of anything. They're cleared to leave the scene and told that if the police need anything more from them, they'll be in touch. Hanna comes over and touches Spencer's arm, but the latter doesn't even notice. Despite this, the blonde tells her friend that Emily's taken Aria home and that they should all go home to spend some time in the company of their loved ones. She links her arm through Spencer's and the two are off down the street. Spencer doesn't have the heart to tell her that, as per the usual, her parents are somewhere else.

On the walk home, Spencer can't stop seeing a body on the ground. She rubs her eyes, shakes her head, tries to think of anything else, but she cannot. And when Hanna's left her for her own house, it's then that Spencer realizes why she's numb, why she's so affected. It isn't Ezra's body that's caused her so much pain; it's Toby's. The fact that she had watched her best friend lose her first love had hit a live wire within her. _That could've been you_, she reminds herself and a voice from deep within her taunts back, _It _was_ you_. No matter what she does, Spencer cannot remove the gruesome images of Toby's mangled body from her mind. She's numb, but her composure's crumbling. She's put together, but only outwardly, because inside, she's already fallen.

It might not have been Toby tonight, but it had been Toby before, and there's nothing stopping it from being Toby again.

* * *

From the moment Spencer had admitted her parents weren't home, Toby knew he'd be spending the night. Melissa is nowhere to be seen and there's a murderer on the loose in Rosewood, so the last thing Toby wants to do is leave his girlfriend alone. When she'd gotten the text from Aria hours earlier and left the house remorsefully, Toby had spent the time tidying up from their popcorn fight and anxiously awaiting her return. Now, if there's one thing that has become perfectly clear, it's that Spencer is an extremely passionate human being; every text she sends him usually ends in an array of different kinds of punctuation. So ten minutes ago, when she'd sent him a simple message of "_Home soon_" he knew whatever had gone on between her and the girls had been serious.

A moment later, she enters the house and the look on her face is unbearable. Toby knows her pretty well and can sense she's distraught without even asking. He stands as she locks the door behind her and asks, "Spencer, what happened?"

And that's all it takes for the composure he can tell she was trying to maintain to fall completely apart; for _her_ to fall completely apart. Her face crumbles and her voice breaks over his name, "Toby…"

She tears her coat off, kicks off her shoes and practically throws herself into his open arms. He holds her tight, but it's nothing compared to the way she's gripping him. Her fingernails dig into the flesh of his shoulders in an effort to pull him as close as she can and Toby's sure she'll leave a mark. He doesn't mind, but he does mind when only moments later, he feels his shirt dampen with her tears. And when it rains, it _pours_. She's not simply crying; she is _sobbing_ in that awful, guttural, can't catch your breath way. Her body's pressed so tightly to his he can feel it rage from deep within her; she's shaking and his own heart gives a painful tug when he feels how quickly hers is beating. She's terrified and he doesn't know why, but it's absolutely killing him to see her like this.

"What happened, Spencer?" He asks softly, trying and failing to calm her down. "What happened? Why are you so upset?"

Her only response is to sob even harder, to cling to him even tighter, her cries both deafening and heartbreaking. Toby wants to tell her that everything is going to be all right, but he doesn't know that to be true, because he's seen her cry before, but never like this. Spencer is strong; Spencer is always so incredibly strong and she refuses to let even the worst possible thing get her down. Toby has been amazed since day one by her strength and he knows that everyone sees this within her, but everyone has a limit to the amount of beatings they can take before they finally fall down. Spencer is strong, but she's not made of steel. Toby doesn't know what happened, but he can venture a guess. Someone out there had overestimated her strength, had overestimated just how much this poor girl can take, and it had resulted in the breakdown he's witnessing.

"Spencer," He tries again, kissing her temple and her cheek and any skin he can reach. "Let me help you. I can't help you if I don't know what's wrong."

Toby attempts to pull away from her, just slightly, so he can look her in the eye, but she loops an arm around his neck and shakes her head, not yet ready to leave his embrace. He nods and says, "You're alright now, okay? It'll be all right. Just tell me what's going on and we'll figure it out together, okay?"

Regretfully, she loosens her death grip on him and leans back ever so slightly. Tears are still pouring from her brilliant brown eyes, but her sobs are lessening and at first, Toby takes that as a good sign. But then he realizes it's not because she's calming down; it's because she can't catch her breath. Her breathing is alarmingly uneven, coming in quick, short gasps, and he is immediately, in a word, terrified. "Spencer, you're hyperventilating. You need to breathe or you're going to pass out."

She doesn't heed his warning. He moves his hands from her torso up to cup her face, to force her to look him in the eye. "Take a deep breath. In and out, nice and easy. You're going to be okay, you just need to breathe."

It's shaky, but he feels her inhale and exhale sharply a couple of times. He smiles reassuringly at her. "There you go. That's better."

"I'm sorry," Spencer laments a moment later. "I'm so sorry, Toby."

"Why are you apologizing?" He asks, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "You have nothing to be sorry for."

She shakes her head and tugs on his hand, leading him over to the couch as they both fall upon it. He's glad, because he can tell whatever she's going to say, he'll need to be sitting down for. Her breathing is still unsteady and she hasn't stopped crying when she says, "She saw him that night and now he's dead. She saw you, too. You could be next!"

"What are you talking about?" He asks, as gently as possible. "Who's dead?"

"I can't," She shakes her head. "I can't lose you, Toby. I can't."

"You're not going to lose me," Toby insists. "Spencer, what is going on?"

She doesn't answer but instead wraps her arms around him again, not quite as tightly as before, but still in need of reassurance. She cries, "I _love_ you!"

Now she's seriously starting to scare him. He holds her extra tight, as if that'll help, and professes, "I love you, too. So, so much. You know that."

"I love you, but that's not enough anymore," Spencer says. "I love you and that's not enough! It's not enough to keep you safe!"

Her breathing is quickening again and before she can once again reach hyperventilation territory, Toby pulls back, braces her, and states, "Spencer, take a deep breath and tell me what's going on. You aren't making sense. Let me help you."

She sucks in a deep breath and Toby watches as some of the color comes back to her face. Her voice is raw, likely from the horrendous sobs, but she says, "Ezra Fitz is dead."

Toby nods slowly, sure there's more to the story, because from everything he's heard about the guy, he knows Spencer wouldn't be this broken up about his passing. "Okay. I'm really sorry."

"Emily and Aria were at the Grille," Spencer explains, her breathing still a bit hitched. "They saw someone watching them; they thought it was –A. Hanna and I went there and… We started to follow them. Ezra was there and we don't know how or why, but Aria wanted to let him help us. I didn't believe he was being sincere and I guess I'll never know, now, but… We split up because at the corner, there were two people in hoodies. Hanna and I went one way and Emily, Aria and Ezra went the other."

She's gripping Toby's hand like a vice for support, but he doesn't mind. She goes on, "Hanna and I followed the one into the park. It was Lucas. He's on the –A Team and he doesn't want to be. He wants out, but no one gets out. He knows who –A is but he won't tell us, because he says she'll kill him. Then there was a gunshot and Lucas was gone and when Hanna and I got to the alley, Ezra was dead. Emily and Aria… they watched him die. And –A got away again; we don't know where she went. But it doesn't matter, because Ezra's still dead. Only, when I looked at him, I didn't _see_ him. I saw you."

It's then that he finally understands her extreme reaction to Ezra Fitz's death. Spencer says, "We figured out a few weeks ago that –A's killing has a pattern. They're all people who saw Ali the night she disappeared. Ian, Jenna, Garrett, Wilden, Grunwald and now Ezra. And when I saw him lying there, bleeding and dying, I thought of you. How I'd seen you like that before; how it could happen again, because you saw Ali that night, too. You're certainly on –A's radar; Aria and Ezra weren't even together and yet –A got such a pleasure out of destroying them even further. The fact that you could be next, that I could lose you for real this time, that I can't do anything to protect you… It hadn't ever hit me before tonight. But seeing Ezra like that… It became very real all too quickly."

He understands; losing her is his number one fear, too. It's what keeps him up at night, it's what he worries about each time she answers an S.O.S. text, and it's what led him to make the decision that had once ended their relationship. Not only had this latest stunt forced Spencer to remember things she'd greatly like to forget, but it had also reminded her that though last time it wasn't real, this time it likely could be. This poor girl has witnessed death one too many times; it's truly become too much for her. And he knows he can't simply tell her everything is going to be all right and allow her to take his word for it. As much as he wishes for this to be true, he truly cannot promise her that. They'd promised no more lies, after all.

Instead, he takes her into his arms again, trying to fix her brokenness with the pieces of him she'd mended. "I'm sorry, Spencer. I'm sorry you had to see that. I'm sorry this is happening to you."

She merely nods into his shoulder. "I know."

"I know you worry about me, especially with what –A's done to me in the past," He says. "But you saw Alison that night, too, which puts us in the same boat. Either one of us could be next and it's terrifying. Believe me, I get it."

She sighs and her voice is small when she says, "I just want it to be over."

"Me too," He agrees. "We're going to fight this, though. We've already been going this long, right? We're going to win. We've got to win."

"I hope so," Spencer tells him, pulling away to wipe her eyes and cheeks. "I'm so sorry I freaked out like that. I must've scared the hell out of you."

"You did," He agrees. "But don't apologize for having emotions. I don't know how you waited this long."

She smiles, but there's more sadness in it than mirth. "I'm sorry you ever got involved with a basket case like me."

"I'm not," Toby frowns. "First of all, who called you a basket case?"

She shrugs. "Me."

"Sometimes you are your worst bully, you know that?" He tells her and he watches merriment take over her face, for once. "You are not a basket case. You are dealing with some serious stuff and I think that warrants a certain level of emotion. I'm here for you, Spencer. I'm always here for you. You don't have to go through any of this alone, okay?"

"Okay," She replies and then probes, "You're still staying tonight, right?"

"You couldn't make me go anywhere else," He admits and she sighs in relief.

They lock all the doors and triple check to be sure they stay locked before retreating upstairs. She changes out of her clothes and slips into that old blue shirt of his, crawling beneath the covers of her bed as he strips of his jeans and t-shirt and follows suit. It's hard to believe that a night that had started out so jovially with popcorn and a movie had ended in death and in tears; Toby's not a religious man, but that night, he prays to God to lessen the burden upon his girlfriend's shoulders. He does not enjoy seeing her in despair; he does not want a repeat of this evening. Spencer's tired, both physically and emotionally, and when Toby's body curls around hers, it's enough to lull her to sleep. It's not an easy night for either of them; Toby spends the entire night alternating between calming the night terrors plaguing her and fighting the monsters that threaten his own unconscious mind. Eventually, they both give up. They lie awake, wordlessly, in each other's arms and watch the sunrise from her bed.

It's a new dawn. It's a new day. Yet everything they're dealing with is exactly the same.


	13. Thirteen

**Good morning friends! Hope your Mondays find you well! I had a really great time in Boston. I went to visit my college roommate and we went to Walker Stalker Con (it's a Walking Dead thing, in case you were curious about the other shows I watch lol). We met the cast, we got lost, we had adventures- it was a glorious time haha. What made it even more glorious, however, was coming home and reading all these great reviews on the last chapter. Seriously I couldn't ask for better readers. You're the best of the best.**

**So here's chapter thirteen. It's sort of a fall-out chapter as well as a build-up chapter. We're going to see the girls' reaction to Ezra's death (okay technically we already saw Spencer's, didn't we?) and we're going to build toward that ominous event I've been mentioning for chapters now- prom. If it's not the most exciting chapter, I apologize. But stay tuned, because I've got plenty of tricks up my sleeve. ;)**

* * *

Thirteen

On Sunday morning, Toby wakes up with the sun and searches the bowels of his closet for his funeral suit. At nineteen, he shouldn't even have a suit designated for funerals only; in fact, most nineteen-year-olds, he's sure, don't even own a suit. But he's already been to more funerals than he can count, more funerals than he ever should have to attend, and thus, he has to be prepared. He'd never spoken to Ezra Fitz; he doesn't even know what the man looks like. But he'd like to be there for Spencer and the entire town is gathering to mourn him, anyway. It's become a sort of macabre tradition; each time Rosewood loses another member of the town, whether they knew the person or not, everyone comes together to pay tribute to their memory.

He finds Spencer and Emily outside the church and hugs each of them. Spencer runs a hand down the lapel of his jacket, saying, "You look really nice. If this is what you look like in a suit, I can't wait to see you in a tux."

He chuckles. Emily asks, "Oh yeah, are you excited for prom? Less than a week away, now."

"Sure," Toby says uneasily. "You know I love dressing up and dancing."

Both girls laugh, glad there's a reason to despite the situation. Emily notes, "Well I'm sure you guys will have a great time, anyway. I don't think I ever anticipated going to prom without a date, but then again there's been a lot I've hadn't planned on, lately."

"You can borrow mine," Spencer offers, a hand on Toby's arm. "You don't mind, do you Toby?"

"No," He shakes his head. "Are you kidding? Everyone will envy me- strolling into prom with _two_ lovely ladies on my arms."

Emily smiles. "That's okay. I'm actually looking forward to it. This way I can just enjoy myself and focus on our plan. I won't have to worry about all of the drama."

Hanna and Caleb arrive, then, arms around one another, and Toby asks, "When did that happen?"

"Your guess is as good as mine," Spencer shrugs. "One minute, she's pissed at him and the next they're making out."

"Is anyone surprised, though?" Emily asks. "We all knew they'd get back together."

"Well I guess so," Spencer agrees. "I just thought she'd put up more of a fight."

Emily nods and goes to join them as they enter the church. She turns back to ask, "You coming?"

"I think I'm going to wait for Aria," Spencer says. "You guys go ahead."

Toby presses a kiss to her forehead and follows Emily, Hanna and Caleb into the church. Spencer would like to join them, but she's worried about the state of mind Aria is in and is desperate to be there for her. She's not sure Aria will want the sympathy or the support; Spencer knows if, God forbid, the situation were reversed, she would want to be left alone. But she's going to make a conscious effort to present her services to her friend, anyway. Moments later, she recognizes the Montgomerys' car and all four of them pile out, reunited again under the tragic circumstances. Aria distances herself from them immediately and Spencer takes this an opportunity to speak to her alone.

"Hi," She opens. "How are you?"

"I'm fine," Aria replies as though there isn't a reason for her to be otherwise. "Let's just get this over with."

"Okay," Spencer says apprehensively. "I just thought this might be hard on you-"

"Why?" Aria hisses. "Because we used to be together or because he died thinking I hated him? Or because he was a bigger liar than I am and everything between us probably wasn't even genuine?"

"All of the above," Spencer tells her sympathetically. "Look Ezra was pretty shady, but he didn't deserve to die like that. No one does."

"Maybe not, but maybe if he had minded his own business instead of trying to make a quick buck at my expense, he would still be here," Aria jeers. "Or maybe if he hadn't gotten involved with me in the first place, he'd be alive."

"Aria, it's not your fault he's dead," Spencer informs her. "This is –A; it's always been –A. –A is the reason our relationships have taken the beatings they have."

"Maybe yours," Aria says bitterly. "Not mine. Ezra lied about everything. That wasn't –A. That was him."

"I understand you're angry and you have every right to be," Spencer reasons. "But you should take into consideration-"

"Stop!" Aria shouts. "Don't try to shrink me, Spencer. You think you're helping but you're not. Let's just go inside and get this over with so we can all move on with our lives."

Spencer frowns, taken aback a bit by her outburst. "Okay. Let's go."

Ezra's family is seated towards the front, already in tears, and a few rows from the casket, Spencer can spot Toby and the others. She joins them and assumes Aria will too, but is surprised when instead she finds her friend taking a seat beside a young man Spencer assumes is Ezra's younger brother. The two hold hands throughout the entire ceremony and do not take their eyes off of the casket. Emily and Hanna ask how she's doing and Spencer shrugs; Aria had all but bitten her head off. Surely she's channeling her grief into anger, but she's not simply angry with Ezra. She's angry with everyone.

Rosewood P.D. is thoroughly dumbfounded by this string of murders and the girls find themselves unable to go anywhere anymore without being under the watchful eye of a police officer. There are officers stationed at the bottom of the steps of the school, a patrol car on each street corner, and officers riding up and down each block 24-7. The town has issued a curfew for all residents; no one is allowed out of their own houses after ten p.m. until the perpetrator is found. They seem to think this will help, but Spencer and the others know that this will only make it easier for –A to find them, because she'll always know where they are. If anyone needs to make a trip past ten o'clock, they cannot do so without a police escort. The girls find this amusing because, truthfully, they feel safer without the police than they ever had with them.

On Monday morning, Spencer, Hanna and Emily arrive at school to find the flag at half-mast. All their teachers are dressed in black and they've been informed they will not be attending regular classes that day. Instead, a memorial assembly is awaiting them in the auditorium and the girls are dreading it. Ezra's death had hit them in the same way Jenna's had; of course they're sad, because neither one of them had deserved to die so soon, with so much life ahead of them. But simultaneously, the girls had not been the best of friends with Jenna and they had just learned, months prior, that their English teacher had been stalking them for years. They're not condoning the murders, but they're certainly not going to be broken up over their passing.

"Aria's not coming today, right?" Emily wonders. "I mean, I wouldn't be surprised if she took the whole week off."

"I don't know, she's taking this harder than I would've thought," Spencer says. "She might not have loved him anymore but she did at one point. He was her first love. You can't forget that."

"I'm not saying you can. Believe me, I've been there," Emily agrees. "It took me months to get over Maya; to be able to say her name, even. But I feel like she's channeling her grief into anger with him when she should be angry with –A."

"Yeah but she can still be angry with him," Hanna disagrees. "She never forgave him for what he did."

"Can you blame her?" Emily asks.

Spencer adds, "I think that's why she's so upset. He died and… they never cleared the air between them."

Hanna nods. "And now they never will."

After a moment of silence, Spencer puts in, "At class council this morning, we talked about postponing prom in wake of the tragedy, but we ultimately decided against it."

"Good," Hanna agrees. "First of all, I'm a shoe-in for prom queen and I don't need to wait any longer for my crown. And second, I think a little happiness and fun are exactly what everyone needs right about now."

"That's exactly why we decided against postponing it," Spencer says. "There's no guarantee we could get the venue a second weekend in a row and also everyone's been so excited about it. It's the best thing to lift people's spirits, you know?"

"Are we still planning on duping –A?" Emily asks. "At prom, I mean."

"I'm still up for it," Hanna says.

Spencer nods. "Yeah. I just think that someone should switch jobs with Aria, because I don't think she's in the right frame of mind for the old bait and switch."

"Oh my god," Emily suddenly says and the other two are alarmed at once.

"What? You don't agree?"

"No," Emily shakes her head. "Aria's here."

The other two follow her line of vision and sure enough, their petite brunette friend is charging their way like a woman on a mission. She doesn't look like she's grieving- that's the first thing the girls notice. When the others had lost the ones they'd loved, Emily had gotten drunk, Hanna wore sweatpants for days and Spencer hadn't even been able to get out of bed. But Aria's exactly the opposite. She's dressed in one of her outlandish outfits, as per the usual, and has accessorized quite nicely, her hair curled around her shoulders and her makeup expertly painted on. The girls watch as she opens her locker, yanks out a few books and then closes the metal door, approaching her friends as though it's just another day.

"What are you doing just standing around?" Aria asks bitingly. "We're going to be late for first period!"

"We're not going to first period," Hanna tells her. "Or any period. We have an all-day assembly."

Aria scoffs. "For _what?_"

"One's on proper prom behavior," Spencer explains gently. "One's on drugs and alcohol use and… One's on Ezra."

"And they think people want that?" Aria snorts. "They think we need a safe place to let it all out?"

"He was a popular teacher," Emily nods. "Everyone loved him."

"Yeah and where did that get any of us?" She shoots back. "I should've stayed home."

"Why didn't you?" Hanna asks. "Why are you even here?"

"Hanna," Spencer says, a warning.

"Well, come on," Hanna defends. "If she's going to run around here biting people's heads off and tearing everyone down like Hurricane Aria, then maybe she shouldn't be here!"

"People deal with grief in different ways," Emily scolds. "Don't yell at her."

"I'm sorry, but I'm not going to stand here and get yelled at," Hanna crosses her arms. "We get it, okay? You're pissed and that's fine. Be pissed. But don't take it out on us. Your friends are all you've got now, Aria, and if you lose us too, you're going to be all alone."

She turns and stalks in the way of the auditorium and Spencer shoots an apologetic look at Aria before following after her. Emily winces and says, "I'm sorry. She doesn't handle confrontation well."

"Whatever," Aria shakes her head. "Let's just go."

The auditorium is packed with students and because they'd arrived so late, the four girls have trouble, at first, finding a seat. The principal drones on for the first hour or so about how they're expected to behave on Saturday night; they're representing all of Rosewood by attending prom in the Poconos and they're all expected to be on their best behavior. He gives a list of dos and don'ts and then details the severe punishments that will occur if any of the above rules are broken. Following this, a rehab counselor speaks to them about drug and alcohol abuse, warns them of the dangers they face and presents them with some terrifying statistics about how everyone who goes to prom doesn't always make it back.

Finally, the topic changes and a familiar face takes the stage- Dr. Anne Sullivan. "Good afternoon, Rosewood High. It is with a profound sadness that I am here today, speaking on the loss of one of our own, Mr. Ezra Fitz. Ezra was an educator, a man fiercely dedicated to the refining of students' minds and he was an incredibly humble man."

Aria snorts loudly and draws the attention of the students in front of her. Emily elbows her in the ribs to quiet her. Dr. Sullivan continues, "It is an inconceivable loss to our community that we now must find a way to recover from the death of one of our own. Many of you had classes with Mr. Fitz and many of you now have a greater understanding and maybe even a love for literature as he did. Many of you may have even been close with him; I understand Mr. Fitz had a habit of being very hands-on with his students."

"I'll say," Aria mutters and Hanna shoots her a pointed look.

"But we now must ask ourselves to look at the bigger picture," Dr. Sullivan goes on. "This is not the first death to befall Rosewood over the past few years and, judging by the nature of this suspect, it will most likely not be the last. We have to look back at our actions and wonder if we've done the right thing. We have to look back and ask ourselves, did I witness something that was suspicious? Was I a part of something that maybe I shouldn't have been? Is there anything I could've done that might make me, or someone I love, a target?"

"You bet," Aria growls.

Spencer shushes her. "Aria, you have to stop."

"Ask yourselves these questions and go to the police with any information you may have," Dr. Sullivan begs. "You may think you're protecting someone, but you could be hurting someone else. I will be here to talk for the rest of the week, so if you need to get something off of your chest or if this string of deaths is just too much for you, pay me a visit in the counselor's office. Remember Jenna Marshall. Remember Ezra Fitz. Do not let them die in vain. If you see something, say something."

As they're leaving the assembly, Emily says, "Wow, that was… intense."

"Yeah," Hanna agrees. "Did anyone else think she was talking directly to us?"

"Of course she was," Spencer coincides. "She knows what we're involved in. She knows we're in danger. But we can't say anything. Not now."

"We're so close to the end," Emily nods. "If we just hold on a little longer, if we can make it to prom, we'll put an end to this."

"Speaking of prom," Hanna says, trying to get everyone's mind off of Ezra for once. "I'm picking up my dress tonight. I just found the _perfect_ powder blue Manolos in my mom's closet, which she said she'd gotten rid of, but I'm thinking she's just trying to hide them from me. It's all coming together, now."

"Oh so you did go with the blue?" Spencer asks. "I thought you were set on the pink."

"Well I was until I found out Holly Hunter is wearing pink," Hanna sighs. "She's up against me for queen and if I'm going to win, I have to look my best. Blue's my best color, so… It's really nice, anyway. It's got beading all down the side and an open back. I'm in love."

Emily grins and notes, "So I'm wearing red, you're wearing blue and Spence is wearing purple-"

"It's _plum!_"

"What color's your dress, Aria?" Emily asks. "You never even told us when you picked one."

"I'm not going," Aria decides and the other three stop in their tracks.

"You're _not?_"

"No," She shakes her head. "I'm staying home."

"Why?"

"Because no one goes stag to their senior prom," Aria rolls her eyes. "And anyway, I'm not really in the dancing kind of mood."

Emily disagrees, "I'm going stag. I thought we were going single together."

"Don't patronize me, Emily," Aria snarls. "You have two girls you can choose from, so why don't you just shut up about it?"

"Hey," Spencer steps in. "Watch it."

"We know you're hurting," Hanna frowns. "But you don't get to treat us this way."

"I appreciate your concern," Aria seethes. "But I don't want it. Just leave me alone."

She's a tornado of emotion and the others watch her go, moving away to not be hit by the debris.

* * *

On Wednesday afternoon, Emily's working at The Brew when Paige comes in, orders a latte and loses herself in her notebook on the couch in the corner of the room. Emily does everything she can to busy herself; she cleans the cappuccino machine, collects dirty dishes and wipes down all the counters. She takes and fills about a dozen orders and pushes in all the exposed chairs, but she's anxiously waiting for her break. She wants to, no, she _needs_ to talk to Paige, because they still haven't righted their wrongs; they still haven't made amends. And after watching Aria lose the person she'd never made amends with, Emily would not like to go through that herself. Paige is just starting to pack her things to go when Emily gets off work and the latter just catches her arm in time.

"Wait, Paige," Emily begins. "Can you stay a couple more minutes? I was hoping we could talk."

Paige glances at her nervously and toys with her pencil case, but nods. "Okay. Sure."

They take a seat at the counter and Paige asks, "How are you? How's Aria? She's got to be taking this hard."

"I'm okay," Emily nods sincerely. "Aria's not, but she will be. I know what she's going through and it's really tough. But so is she. She can beat this."

Paige nods, too, understanding. "I went to the funeral. I saw you, but you were with your friends and I didn't want to bother you."

Emily says, "That's okay. I understand."

An awkward silence follows and Paige breaks it by saying, "We're over. I know it."

"Yeah, I think we are," Emily agrees. "It doesn't mean that I don't still love you. I do. I care about you so much, Paige."

"And I care about you," She insists. "You're the first girl I've ever loved."

"I know," Emily nods. "And I know what it's like to lose that girl. I'm sorry that I'm doing this to you. But we aren't working anymore and we know we won't be together next year. I would rather end this now and spare us even more pain down the road."

Paige seems like she agrees. "I get where you're coming from. I'm sorry for what I did. I know I said I wasn't, but I am. If I could take it back, I would."

"You can't," Emily shakes her head. "But I appreciate it. I forgive you."

"Alison won't," Paige comments. "I don't expect her to."

"No, she won't," Emily agrees. "But this isn't about Alison. It's about us."

Paige sighs and asks, hopefully, "Can we still be friends?"

"Of course," Emily says adamantly. "I don't want to lose touch with you. We're always going to be friends. Hey, are you going to prom?"

Paige declines. "No. I didn't see the point."

"Of senior prom?" Emily exclaims in surprise and Paige shakes her head. "Well, that sucks. I was thinking we could go together. You know, one last hurrah before…"

Paige finishes, "Before we're over for good?"

Emily hesitates but nods. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess so."

Paige considers her offer and says, "I'll think about it."

"Great," Emily smiles. "If you do change your mind, you know where to find me."

They stand and bid each other farewell. Paige gathers her things and before she can turn for the door, Emily turns back and pulls her in for a hug. It catches Paige by surprise, but soon, Emily feels her arms snake around her waist. She's relieved; she's never had to do the dumping before. Maya had met an untimely demise, Samara had let Emily know they were over and Alison had never been hers in the first place. Emily still has feelings for Paige. She still loves her and she's not sure that's going to go away. She hopes they'll still be friends, because she doesn't want to ruin the camaraderie they'd spent the better half of two years building. Yet, something in their hug feels outrageously different and she's not sure if they'll be able to maintain their friendship.

If they'd ended things cordially and promised to still be friends, why does this hug feel like a goodbye?

* * *

Aria's still brooding on Friday morning when she enters the school and she can tell that everyone, even people she barely speaks to, is trying to keep their distance. She doesn't care; she doesn't need anyone to tell her how or what to feel. And what she's feeling, she probably couldn't put into words if you asked her. She's unfathomably angry, partly with Ezra, partly with –A, but mostly with herself. Of course, underneath that anger is a heaping plate of remorse, because she had loved him, it had gone to waste and now, he was gone for good. The girls approach her with caution and she tells them, calmly, that she's sorry and she'll meet them at lunch. She can almost hear the collective sigh of relief as she walks away. Perhaps the tempest has passed, she thinks bitterly, and she's starting to move on.

In the library, she's absentmindedly flipping through _The Great Gatsby_, her security blanket, when Holden Strauss, a face she hasn't seen in weeks, sits down in front of her. "Hi Aria. I heard about Mr. Fitz and I'm really sorry."

"Thank you," She murmurs. "So am I."

"I know I haven't been around much," He laments. "Doctor's appointments kind of take up my life, but I'm still here for you. You know, if you want to talk."

"Thanks," She repeats. "I don't. But it's good to know."

Holden nods and then says, "So _Gatsby_, huh? That's a classic. Have you read it before?"

"Three times," Aria says quietly. "It's my favorite."

"Yeah, it's good," Holden agrees. "I'm definitely with Nick, though, in not believing how insane Gatsby is. I mean, Daisy's married and wouldn't give him the time of day and yet that didn't stop him from pursuing her."

"That's not it. He's delusional," Aria disagrees. "Everyone thinks F. Scott Fitzgerald was trying to write another _Romeo and Juliet_, but he wasn't. Gatsby and Daisy aren't star-crossed lovers; Gatsby's deluded himself into thinking that she loves him and he needs to be rich and have extravagant parties to tempt and entertain her. But she's a fool; she thinks the best thing a girl can be is a fool. She doesn't care about him, but he doesn't see that. He loves her obsessively, unhealthily, regardless of her feelings."

Holden nods slowly. "Hm. Guess I didn't see it like that."

"Yeah," Aria frowns. "I guess I've got a proclivity for tragic love stories."

Holden chuckles. "Well, all the classics are like that. Depressing and always trying to teach you something, but entertaining."

She nods. "Sure."

After a beat, Holden asks, "Are you going to prom?"

"Haven't decided," Aria shrugs and Holden smirks.

"Aria, it's tomorrow."

"I know," She says. "I bought a ticket, I have a dress in my closet… I just don't know if I should go."

"Well, what does your date think?" Holden wonders and Aria snorts.

"He might have an opinion," She counters. "If I had a date."

"Hold on," Holden exclaims in shock. "Aria Montgomery does not have a date to senior prom?"

"It's not as shocking as it might seem," Aria smirks, amused.

"Well, that's such a coincidence," Holden grins. "Because I don't have a date either."

"Oh really?"

"You do not seem as shocked as I was," Holden accuses. "Is this another hint at you thinking I'm gay?"

"No!" Aria laughs and it's been so long since she'd done so, she hardly recognizes the sound. "No, I swear. It just seems a little convenient, that's all."

"What does?"

"You asking me to prom," She replies. "You are asking me to prom, aren't you?"

Holden smirks and asks, "Would you like me to ask you to prom?"

Aria asks, skeptically, "Did my friends put you up to this?"

"I haven't spoken to your friends," Holden insists. "I'm more concerned with your reaction."

"You really want to go with me?" She wonders.

"I do," Holden nods. "Aria, no one should miss their senior prom."

She has to agree. "Okay. I'll go to prom with you."

And suddenly, Aria begins to anticipate prom night a whole lot more.

* * *

"So let me get this straight," Emily announces at lunch later that day. "I'm the only one without a date, now?"

"Oh yesterday it wasn't a big deal and now it is?" Hanna asks amusedly.

"Yesterday, Aria was going solo too," Emily says. "This is crazy."

"I know. I think so too," Aria agrees. "He came out of nowhere. I certainly wasn't expecting it."

"Well I think it's great," Spencer tells her. "I've never really been able to read Holden, but I do think he likes you."

Aria's immediately on the defensive. "I'm not really ready for a relationship right now, you know?"

"You don't have to be to in a relationship with him to have a good time," Spencer counteracts. "And you deserve a good time, after the week you've had."

"You know what I think is amazing?" Hanna asks. "And I'm afraid to say it because I don't want to jinx anything-"

"Then don't," Emily teases and Hanna shoots her a look.

She replies, "I think it's awesome that it's almost been an entire week and not one of us-"

"Oh my god!" Aria gasps, her eyes widening at the text she's just been sent. She reads aloud, "_Four little liars wanting to be free. One lost herself at night and then there were three_."

"_Three little liars don't know what to do_," Emily reads next, her own phone buzzing. "_One got abducted and then there were two_."

"_Two little liars wishing it was done,_" Hanna says. "_One ratted out a friend and then there was one_."

"_One little liar not having any fun_," Spencer finishes. "_I pushed her off a cliff and then there were none. –A_."

"Okay that is crazy," Hanna says immediately. "I was _just_ going to say we haven't gotten anything from her all week."

Emily frowns. "Hanna, you did jinx it."

"It's not crazy," Spencer shakes her head. "It's Agatha Christie."

"It's _what?_"

"The mystery novelist, Agatha Christie?" Spencer probes. "You've never read _And Then There Were None_?"

"Do we look like we have?"

Spencer rolls her eyes. "It's a murder mystery. Ten people take a vacation on this secluded island and when they get to the house they read this poem about ten little Indian boys who died in weird and mysterious ways. But then each one of them starts to die out in those same ways. For example, the tenth little Indian choked to death and the first one in the house to die chokes to death and then it goes on until they're all dead. It's kind of brilliant, actually."

"So you're saying –A's planning our fate?" Aria questions and Spencer nods.

"Spencer," Emily says warily. "She's going to push you off a cliff."

"She thinks she's going to push me off a cliff," Spencer disagrees. "She warned me now, right? Do you think I'm going to go near a cliff knowing what she has in store for me?"

"Who's the friend I ratted out?" Hanna then asks. "Lucas?"

"Yeah, I haven't seen him, actually," Emily comments. "He's been gone all week."

"Oh my god," Hanna gasps. "What if we ran him out of town?"

"Hanna," Spencer says instead. "What if –A did something to him because of what he told us?"

"First –A took Jason and now Lucas," Aria comments. "Guys, we need to end this. _Now_."

In twenty-four hours, the showdown of a century will take place. If they're lucky, they might bring an end to the madness, but either way, things will be forever changed.


	14. Fourteen

**Ladies and gentlemen, I am dead and freaking gone. I'm pretty sure Spoby's reunion last night just murdered the fuck out of me. I honestly didn't expect anything like the scenes we got and I will not go into detail in case you haven't seen it (please do yourself a favor and get on that shit as soon as possible), but wowza. Will anything be as great as that airport scene we were almost promised? We'll never know. Sorry guys, I'm never letting that go. :P BUT last night was pretty great. To be honest, between Spoby and Jason, I really didn't pay attention to the plot (can you tell what I'm really watching for? LOL). **

**Anyway, how do I even follow that? And more importantly, how do I live up to the prom hype I've been building? I really hope you guys like this. I kid you not, I have been editing and re-writing this chapter for weeks. TheVelvetDusk- you asked me to promise you some cutesy Spoby fluff and how could I deny your request? I surely promise! But basically if you all don't like this, or if it doesn't live up to your expectations or what have you, let me know. That's what reviews are for. Nice words are welcome too. :P**

**Also side-note: anyone notice how the girls started accusing Jason last night? Wonder where they got that from. Side-eying you writers real hard. (LOL I'm totally joking. Great minds think alike, after all). Kay BYE.**

* * *

Fourteen

When Spencer was twelve years old, her mother had dragged her along on the morning of Melissa's senior prom to all of her sister's primping appointments. Spencer had to sit there and watch as her sister got a mani-pedi, got her immensely thick hair wrapped in a delicate up do, and had makeup professionally applied to her blemish-free face. Then, she had had to watch as a guy who looked like a human Hercules picked her sister up and posed for a dozen and a half photos before bringing her home hours later, a shiny crown atop her head. Her parents had been so incredibly proud of their daughter and Spencer hadn't understood why. It's a popularity contest after all; it wasn't as if she'd done anything for it. If that's what prom was, Spencer had decided firmly back then, she wanted no part in it.

But today is her prom and she is absolutely elated. She gets her own mani-pedi, her own fancy up do, her own professional makeup job. Veronica acts like a child in a candy store and asks Spencer a million different questions about any extra jewelry or adornment she might need. She really doesn't need much; it's not a beauty pageant after all. When they return home after a day of pampering, Spencer shuts herself in her room and reveals her beautiful, one-shoulder plum prom gown, with crystal beading going down the shoulder and around the waist to reveal the flowing skirt beneath. The best part about this gown, she decides after she's slipped into it, is that it fits her like a glove. She isn't uncomfortable in the slightest; it isn't cutting off her air supply or restricting her movement or what have you. It's absolutely perfect and she cannot wait for the night ahead of her.

As she's putting earrings in, there's a knock on her bedroom door and Veronica sticks her head in. "Can I come in?"

"Sure," Spencer agrees and the moment her mother enters, a hand is clapped to her mouth.

"Oh honey," Veronica sighs complacently. "You look absolutely spectacular."

"Thank you," Spencer smiles. "That's what we're aiming for."

Veronica nods. "Toby's not going to be able to keep his hands to himself."

Spencer chuckles. "Mom!"

"Hey, I just know what I've walked in on before," Veronica holds up her hands in defense. "And by the way, he's here."

"He is?" Spencer panics. "He's early!"

"And you're ready early," Veronica comments. "Looks like you've finally met your match."

Spencer smirks and bends over to strap on her heels, praying to the stiletto gods that they'll leave her feet without blisters and pain until after the evening is through. She stands, gives herself a once-over in the mirror and takes a deep breath. She's ready and yet she can't help the butterflies fluttering around in her stomach. Veronica descends the stairs before her and announces her arrival as though she were the Queen of England. Well, with what she's wearing, she certainly feels like royalty tonight. She takes the stairs slowly, mostly out of safety with the heels she's wearing, but also out of anticipation because she knows Toby's waiting for her at the bottom.

She spots him by the front door the moment she's close enough and for some reason, her nerves run even higher. The butterflies have found their way to her throat, but even so, she can't help but smile at the sight of him. His patent leather shoes are shining under the light of the chandelier in the foyer, his pants and jacket are freshly pressed and he's fidgeting with his bow tie, but he stops at the sight of her. It's as if she can see his breath hitch; his eyes widen and follow her as she continues down the stairs and steps onto the hardwood floor. The smile on his face grows, warm and slow, and, just as languidly, she approaches him. They might be in the company of her family, but that doesn't stop him from admiring her as adoringly as he ever has.

"You look…" Toby trails off, at a loss for words. "Absolutely gorgeous. Seriously, you are so beautiful."

"Thank you," She feels her cheeks flush and her grin grows even wider. Toying with his bow tie, she compliments, "You look incredibly handsome. I love you in a tux."

"Pictures," Veronica announces. "I need pictures."

Toby presents her with a corsage, which she slips on her wrist, and then pins the boutonnière she'd bought onto the lapel of his jacket. Veronica takes more pictures than Spencer ever thought possible. There are pictures with her coming down the stairs, pictures of her and Melissa, pictures of her and her parents and about a hundred and seven pictures of her and Toby. Just as she's sure she'll go blind, Spencer pleads, "Can we please stop? I'm seeing spots."

"I guess I went a little crazy, huh?" Veronica chuckles and Peter smirks.

"Don't blind them before they can even leave the house," He begs of her.

"Well, I did slip some money in your purse for the photographer at the prom," Veronica informs her daughter. "Don't forget to get a professional photo done."

"Are you kidding me, Mom?" Spencer groans. "No one has time for that."

"Don't be a pill, Spencer," Veronica purses her lips before turning to her daughter's boyfriend. "You'll make sure I get my professional photo, won't you, Toby?"

"Of course, Mrs. Hastings," Toby nods obediently and Spencer frowns.

Her mother grins. "Thank you. I knew I could count on you."

"Okay, we're leaving now," Spencer insists and Toby opens the door for her as her parents and sister wish them the time of their lives.

As the door closes behind them, Spencer's eyes fall upon the limo waiting before them. Her eyes widen and she asks, "You got us a limo?"

"The only way to go to prom is in style," Toby tells her and adds, "You didn't think we were going in my truck, did you?"

"I guess I didn't really think about it," She balks. "How?"

"Caleb and I went in on it," Toby informs her. "We wanted to surprise you and Hanna."

Spencer nods, still in suspended shock. "You succeeded."

The limo driver opens the door for them and they slide in, commenting on the remarkable interior. Spencer kisses him when he's seated next to her and when they're through, he asks, "What was that for?"

"This. Everything," She tells him. "You've already made prom amazing and we haven't even gotten to it yet."

He grins and kisses her again. "I wanted you to have the perfect night."

"I will," Spencer nods. "I'm with you, aren't I?"

The limo then approaches Hanna's house, where Ashley Marin could give Veronica a run for her money with the amount of photos she's taking of Hanna and Caleb. When Spencer and Toby arrive, Ashley insists they join in and she gets many photos of the four of them, promising to send them along to Veronica and Peter the moment they're uploaded onto her computer. Hanna shoots Spencer an apologetic look, but if there's anything she understands, it's this. Hanna looks spectacular; her dress is a silk, strapless, powder blue ensemble with beading along the bodice and a long A-line skirt. Her hair is in a messy up do and she's wearing earrings that look like waterfalls and just graze her collarbone. When they're finally finished with all the pictures, the four clamber into the limo and they're off.

The Pocono Mountains are about a half hour from Rosewood and the moment they arrive at the ski resort their prom would take place at that evening, they are absolutely blown away by its beauty. It's nestled right in the mountains and the foliage in the early spring is unequivocally breathtaking. There's a glistening lake on one side and a thicket of tall pines on the other. The ski resort looks as though it's three, maybe four stories and it has the rustic look of a cabin they're expecting. When the limo discharges them, the foursome presents their tickets at the door and is led down a long, beautifully lit hallway to a giant ballroom they hadn't quite been expecting. There are a few dozen clothed tables surrounding the dance floor and a handful of wait staff ready to cater to their every dining need.

They choose a table towards the back and Hanna exclaims, excitedly, "I feel like Kate Middleton!"

"Yeah everything's a lot fancier than I expected," Caleb agrees and Spencer beams.

"As class president and head of the prom committee," She announces. "I'm glad you're enjoying it."

"There's Holly Hunter," Hanna's mood instantly dampens. "I look better than her, right? You don't think she'll win over me?"

"No one looks prettier than you," Caleb assures her and she relaxes a bit.

"We're bullying everyone we know into voting for you," Toby says and Hanna chuckles. "No one but you will walk away with that crown."

Spencer nods. "As it should be."

Hanna exhales and asks, "So what's for dinner?"

"We start with a salad," Spencer says. "And then either chicken, beef or the vegetarian option, and dessert, of course."

"Bridget Wu says she's going to spike the punch," Caleb informs them. "Is there even punch, anymore? I'm pretty sure this isn't 1976."

Spencer smirks. "I had a feeling she might try something like that. That's why each student has his or her own cup that's only refillable by a waiter or waitress. She can spike herself, but she's not getting everyone drunk. Not on my watch."

Toby grins proudly. "Of course you'd planned ahead. Why am I not surprised?"

Emily, Aria and Holden walk through the doors next and the others wave them over to their table. Holden looks like a million dollars and Aria, too, in her one-shoulder, emerald green gown with a slit up the side. Emily's dressed in a smoking hot red number, cinched at the hip and flowing freely below her. Both girls are wearing smiles that could put the sun to shame and when they join the table, they fall into easy conversation with their peers. A representative from their school comes around to each table to take their ballots for prom king and queen and Hanna glances around nervously, as if trying to make a lasting impression on everyone who's considering voting for her.

When the vote is finished, prom has officially begun. The waiters deliver each of the students their choice of salad, followed by the main course and an array of fresh fruit and cake for dessert. And for a moment, everything is magical; Spencer forgets all about –A, all about Alison, all about their plan that would take place later that evening. Toby's arm is slung casually on the back of her chair, her hand's warmly placed on his thigh and she's laughing easily about something Caleb had said. She's surrounded by the people she loves and the people who love her and she feels, for once, like a normal teenage girl. It hits her like a freight train; _normal_. She doesn't know what that is. But she's had a taste of it, now, and she simply cannot get enough. She wants this; she wants _more_.

But then, she receives a text that brings everything right back: "_Ring around the rosy, look who's getting cozy. Hope you enjoyed the Last Supper. –A_."

She knows the time is nearing, but it just isn't here yet. When dinner's over, the DJ begins cranking out the tunes and everyone fills the dance floor. Caleb leads Hanna into the middle of the floor, diving right into the mob and saying, "I know how much you like to be the center of attention."

She laughs. "Well, this is a perfect place for us, then."

"I'd say," Caleb agrees. "So what do you think of all this?"

"It's amazing," Hanna nods. "I mean, I'm not surprised. Everything that comes out of Spencer's brain always is."

Caleb then asks, "Are you guys still planning on doing that thing tonight? With –A?"

"Yes," Hanna says regretfully. "And then we're going to turn that bitch in and move on. We're going to Spencer's lake house, after, to drink and celebrate."

"And you honestly think it'll be that easy?" Caleb wonders and Hanna sighs.

"No," She admits. "Nothing's ever easy. But it has to work. It has to. I can't do this anymore."

"I know," Caleb says. "I get it."

"I'm really glad you came back," Hanna admits suddenly and Caleb's eyes snap to hers. "I missed you so much while you were gone. I thought… I thought I was going to have to do this- prom, graduation, dealing with –A, all of this- without you."

"I'm glad I'm back too," Caleb says, his eyes sincere. "But I'm also glad I left."

Hanna frowns and pulls back a little. "Why?"

"Because," He states as though it's obvious. "If I hadn't, I wouldn't have realized it was a mistake."

"I told you," Hanna eyes him. "_I_ could've told you that."

"I know," He nods. "But I needed to make it on my own. It was wrong and I'm glad I realized that before it was too late. I love you, Hanna. Right here is where I belong."

She grins and rests her head upon his chest. "I love you, too, Caleb."

Meanwhile, on the outskirts of the dance floor, Spencer lures an extremely hesitant Toby into the mouth of the crowd and loops her arms around his neck. He doesn't hesitate to lock his on the perimeter of her waist, but truthfully, he's never done this before and he's never anticipated ever having to do so. The last time they'd come close to slow dancing had been months earlier, at the hoedown, and that hadn't ended well for either of them. She chuckles at bit at his apprehension and tells him to relax. The DJ switches the song, then, and it's clear from the first few notes that it's a slow song. Plenty of people clear the floor; weeding out the singles, they're sure. But the song fits them and Toby knows they're going to stay.

"I've never done this before," Toby tells her. "I'm not very good at this."

"You're doing fine," She shakes her head. "You're better than you think you are."

"I have two left feet," He disagrees and she laughs.

"You don't," Spencer assures him. "You're a good sport. I'm really glad you're here with me."

Toby nods his agreement. "I am, too."

She eyes him, skeptical. "Really?"

"Yeah," He insists. "Believe it or not, I'm actually enjoying myself."

"Good. I'm glad," She grins. "Me too."

"See how nice it is getting to be normal for once?" Toby teases. "Do you really want to mess with that by seeking out –A?"

"I have a feeling –A's already here," Spencer tells him quietly, not wanting to be overheard. "And I just want this to be over."

Toby looks suddenly alarmed. "She's here? How do you know that?"

Spencer hesitates. She hasn't told him about the text she'd received at dinner or the one she'd gotten yesterday, predicting her death. "Call it a hunch?"

He frowns. "Spencer. What happened to not keeping secrets from each other?"

She sighs. "Okay, we told –A she could have Alison tonight as long as she left us and the people we love alone for good. She bought it so she has to be here soon to make the exchange."

"And Alison knows she's being offered up as bait," Toby fills in. "But you have a plan to catch –A instead?"

"I've already alerted the authorities," She informs him. "It's _almost_ over. We're going to be able to leave tonight without having to watch our backs."

Toby eyes her. "And you're sure this is going to work?"

"No," She admits. "I'm not sure of anything, anymore. Every time I think I know something, I get the rug pulled out from under me and I end up on my ass."

Toby chuckles. "Where have I heard that one before?"

She laughs too, leaning further into their embrace. "The only thing I am sure of is that I love you… and that I want you to stay safe."

"What a coincidence," He tells her. "That's the only thing I'm sure of, too."

He bends to connect their lips, kissing her languidly at first but heating up as Spencer locks his head between the cages of her hands. They sway on the spot, not caring who sees, and Emily passes by, glancing at them before quickly looking away in modesty. She finds Aria and Holden and says, "Hanna and Caleb won't give me the time of day and Spencer and Toby are making out. Coming to prom single when all your friends have dates sucks."

Aria chuckles. "Well, you can stick with us."

"Yeah," Holden agrees. "I'd be happy to be your date as well."

"Well, thank you," Emily smiles. "You're not exactly my type, but I'll work with what I've got."

"I thought Paige said she might come?" Aria wonders. "I haven't seen her."

"Neither have I," Emily sighs. "I guess she decided against it."

Aria wants to know, "You guys are really over, huh?"

"We were over before," Emily corrects. "But this just solidifies it."

Hours pass, song after song plays throughout the night and feet begin to ache. Nearing the end of the prom, the DJ announces that this is the time they will announce the winners for prom king and queen and suddenly, Hanna appears much more attentive and alert to those surrounding her. She adjusts her dress, fixes her hair and makes sure to practice her winning smile as all the seniors, her friends especially, wait on baited breath. They begin to quiet down as their principal takes the stage, makes a speech about how they all look magnificent and they're all winners and if he could, he'd give each of them a crown. It's a load of sap but then, he introduces the person who will be announcing the winners- Melissa Hastings.

"Spence?" Hanna questions. "What is your sister doing here?"

Spencer is as shocked as they are. "I don't know."

Aria asks, "You didn't know she was going to be here?"

"No," Spencer insists, her eyes not leaving her elder sister.

Emily murmurs, "Is she the one we're meeting later? The one we've been texting all night?"

"Could be," Spencer speculates. "I really don't know who she is anymore."

Melissa takes the stage and begins to speak. "Congratulations class of 2012. This is your final celebration as classmates before you walk across the stage as graduates. I know you're anxious for a new beginning and I can speak from experience when I say you're certainly going to get it."

"This is it, this is it!" Hanna bounces excitedly and at the others' skeptical looks, she adds, in irritation, "Guys, we can deal with –A later, okay? Let me have my moment, first."

"Without further ado, your prom king is…" Melissa pauses and slides the results out of the first envelope. "Andrew Campbell!"

It doesn't catch Spencer by surprise; he'd been a shoe-in since spring break when he'd thrown the party of the century and she'd graciously declined his invitation. She claps politely as he accepts his crown and Toby leans in closer, saying, "See? You could've come to prom with the prom king."

"I did," She insists, eyeing him and ignoring his teasing nature. "I came with _my_ prom king."

A smile tugs at his lips and Hanna again says, "It's time! It's time!"

A text is sent her way, then: "_Watch out for the pig's blood, bitch. –A_."

"Oh no she did _not_ just Stephen King me," Hanna growls and then shakes her head. "No, she's not taking this away from me."

"And your prom queen is…" Melissa trails off and her face goes blank. She stares at the card for a full minute, bathed in an awkward and impatient silence, before she finally gets the courage to say, "Alison DiLaurentis…?"

There's a chorus of laughter from the members of the football team by the door. This had all been some kind of an elaborate senior prank. Hanna's face falls, utterly disappointed, and she sinks back in her heels, the perfectly poised, confident nature she'd donned earlier completely diminished. At first, it's only the idiotic jocks that seem to find this funny. But after a while, the laughter is contagious and it spreads like wildfire through the crowd. The wait staff is utterly confused at how one simple name could be so amusing. The school officials chaperoning the event are trying and failing to stop the class from laughing at this kind of folly. But Spencer, Aria, Hanna and Emily, along with their prospective paramours, are not joining in. They do not find the humor in the situation; they are not laughing.

Suddenly, neither is anyone else. Slowly, the laughter dies down and since the girls and their dates are at the front of the crowd, they can't see why at first. But the large group of formally dressed seniors splits down the middle as Moses had parted the sea and soon, they realize the joke's on those idiots who'd tipped the ballot in their favor. For the person coming down the manmade aisle is none other than Alison DiLaurentis, not dressed in a ball gown as are her peers, but glowing with pride nonetheless. She continues through the crowd, determined, as though she belongs, and accepts the crown waiting in Melissa's hands. From there, she takes to the microphone and speaks only two words.

"Thank you."

And then she's gone. She turns and exits the ballroom as though her presence hadn't completely shaken everyone to their core. Melissa departs as well and the DJ tries to rouse them with music, but everyone's shock factor hasn't completely worn off. Emily states, in a panic, "It's time. She's here. We have to do this now."

"If we can find her first," Aria says. "Who knows where she disappeared to?"

"I can't believe that bitch beat me _again_," Hanna scowls.

Spencer scolds, "Hanna."

"You're right. That's not important right now," She sighs, quickly pecks Caleb on the cheek and says, "Be right back."

The other three are already moving towards the door, but Toby catches Spencer's arm before she can follow. "If you're not back in twenty minutes, I'm coming to find you."

Spencer nods hurriedly. "Okay."

"Be careful, okay?" He adds, kissing her hastily. "I love you."

"I love you, too," She bids and then she's off.

Alison hadn't gone far; when Spencer enters the hallway, she finds her friends huddled around the recently arrived blonde. "Spencer, this better work or I am out of here."

"So you've said," Spencer rolls her eyes. "Look I want this to work as much as you do-"

Alison scoffs. "Seriously doubt that."

"But," Spencer continues. "We need all hands on deck. If something seems off or wrong, do _not_ leave without letting as all know you're doing so. We're all getting out or we're all staying; there is no in between."

"Roger that," Hanna nods affirmatively. "Let's do this."

They're outside in minutes and Aria and Hanna take their places immediately. They're lookouts and their job is to be seen and not heard from, which is the opposite of what Spencer and Emily are doing, hiding in the patch of trees. They're on the frontlines, with Alison, one with the police on speed dial, the other with an eye on their prize. They cannot be seen; if they are, it compromises the entire operation. When they give the okay, Alison steps into the clearing cautiously, looking in every direction for someone who is waiting to pounce on her. Spencer's heart is in her throat and she's breathing so shallowly she's not sure it's healthy, but it's the moment of truth. It's now or never.

There's movement in one of the bushes and Alison's head snaps in that direction. Spencer holds her breath and can feel Emily do the same beside her. A figure dressed in all black emerges and instead of holding her ground like they'd instructed, instead of calling for help, instead of sticking with them, Alison bolts. She must believe it's a trap and she's done this alone for too long to be worried about others, so she takes off. Spencer can't believe her eyes. She doesn't know what to do. Their plan is botched and Alison is off and running and the first thing she does is tell Aria and Hanna, via text, to follow her, to keep an eye on her. They can't lose her, not when they're this close to the end.

"Where is she going?" Spencer asks in panic, but when she turns, she doesn't find Emily beside her. She is met, instead, with the cool woodland breeze and an emptiness that absolutely terrifies her.

"Emily?" She shrieks instead. "Emily? Where are you?"

A leather glove suddenly curls itself around her mouth and she screams and screams, but no one hears her. She's being dragged backwards, further and further away from the ski resort and deeper and deeper into the thick patch of trees. Spencer thrashes and kicks and does everything she can to get away, but in vain. The person, and she can't quite figure out who it is, has got a tight hold on her and Spencer's strength is no match for this hooded figure's. When Spencer gets a good look at the face, it's covered in a dark ski mask and when she attempts to rip it off, another gloved hand catches her wrist and twists it painfully instead. But with one hand around her mouth and the other on her left arm, this leaves Spencer's right arm completely free. Winding back as though ready to throw a game winning pitch, Spencer slams her right elbow into this person's mouth and gets free. They howl in pain and she sprints away as fast as she can.

It's not very fast. She's in a prom dress and stilettos and she can't move with the agility she usually does. She ditches her heels and treks painfully through the woods, not even sure which direction to go in, but anywhere is good as long as it's away from her tormentor. Her feet pound against the cool wet leaves on the ground and she can hear the person gaining on her and she can't get away. There's a light at the end of the forest, she can see, a clearing perhaps, and with all her might, she heads towards it. But by the time she gets there, she realizes it's a huge mistake. It's exactly where –A wants her to go; it's a drop-off, a cliff, and below it is a twenty or thirty foot plunge.

When she comes to a screeching halt, she realizes –A's right behind her and there's nowhere left to run. So, she does what she does best; she barters. "I know you're going to kill me. I know that. But before you do, please just tell me who you are. I want to know who it is that wants me and my friends dead. I want to know why."

The figure grabs her by the wrists, walks her backwards, and Spencer tries to ignore her irregular heartbeat and shaky breathing. "Please. Please tell me. Or don't, but don't do this. You can't do this."

There's a siren in the distance and this catches them both off-guard. Spencer lets out a shriek as she topples over the edge of the cliff, but –A's not quite finished with her yet. He or she- because she still can't tell, even now- turns back just in time and catches her wrist, dangling her over the edge tauntingly. Spencer wonders why. If it's his or her ultimate goal to let her die, why watch her suffer? And then she remembers something Toby had told her weeks ago, something Mona had said- _The game of cat and mouse is only fun while the mouse is still alive_. The cat plays with the mouse for hours before he actually kills it and so Spencer understands. If she's going to die tonight, she's going to be tortured endlessly, first.

Her legs swing in the open air beneath her and she tries desperately not to let her terror show. "Just pull me up. Please. Please help me. Please don't do this!"

Sweaty and shaking, her hand slips a little in the leather glove and again she pleads, "This isn't the way out. It's not. You won't get away with it."

More sirens sound in the near distance and she can tell this person is beginning to panic. Accompanying the sirens, this time, are a slew of voices and for once, Spencer has hope that this might not end the way she thinks. "People are coming. They're looking for us. You have to pull me up or they'll find me. They'll find us; they'll find _you_."

But –A's had enough. He or she refuses to stay and be found out. Standing to full height, the figure lets go of her hand. Spencer shrieks, "No!"

She comes to grasp the rocky cliff face and watches helplessly as –A tears off into the night. She can hear voices, but they're getting softer, now, as if they're growing further away. "Come back! Come back! Somebody please help me! Help me, please!"

She tells herself not to, but she finds herself glancing over her shoulder. The drop is about twenty-five, maybe thirty feet and it likely wouldn't kill her, but it wouldn't feel good. The dress is swirling around her bare legs and not helping her situation; it's only making her even more aerodynamic. A piercing scream laces the night air and Spencer's heart rate quickens, wondering frightfully who it might belong to and fearing it's one of her friends. She tries to pull herself up and over the cliff, but it's crumbling away in her hands and she can't find a solid place to grab hold. Trying to find a place to step, Spencer digs a bare foot into a hole in the mountain, but it's a crucial mistake. Her dress gets in the way and she slips. She doesn't catch herself, this time.

A flash of brilliant blue eyes is the last thing she thinks about before she falls.


	15. Fifteen

**Hello, hello, hello! I'm glad to know I wasn't the only one who basically lost my shit during Tuesday night's episode. I'm still not over it and I probably never will be lol. But yeah. Sorry for the drama in the last chapter, but let's be real- prom was never going to be sunshine and rainbows. This is the PLL-verse, after all. Also, to those who thought last chapter might've been "the big reveal" or the "epic showdown," again, sorry haha. You'll have to wait just a bit more for that, but I hope it'll be worth it when we get to it!  
**

**As for questions you should be asking yourself, you've all pretty much hit the nail on the head. Should we trust Melissa? Should we trust Alison? Or my personal favorite and one I've been asking since the pilot, what the actual _fuck_ is going on? I hope I'm not being as crazily evasive as the writers of the show. I'm going to answer some of the questions (there's literally no way I could answer all of them and I'd love to see PLL try), so have a little faith. Anyway, a massive THANK YOU for all the reviews on the last chapter! I'm so glad you loved it and I hope you enjoy this one! THANKS! Love you all. Peace.**

* * *

Fifteen

Toby had promised Spencer twenty minutes but all it takes is twenty seconds for him and Caleb to realize that letting the girls face a killer alone in the woods at night, is not such a great idea. They leave prom behind and head into the darkness, searching blindly for any sign of their girlfriends and coming up with nothing to show for it. The first place they check is the lake, because –A has a proclivity for pushing people in. When they come up empty-handed at that, they hear a rustling of leaves coming from the south side of the ski resort and brace themselves for danger, but instead are met with the presence of Aria Montgomery. She looks terrified, frightened beyond belief, and upon seeing two familiar faces, she sighs in relief.

"Aria, what happened?" Caleb asks immediately and her voice comes out in fearful gasps.

"We were set up," She explains. "Ali took off. Hanna and I went after her but we got separated and… I didn't know where I was. It was dark, I couldn't see…"

"What about Spencer and Emily?" Toby wants to know. "Where are they?"

Aria shakes her head furiously. "I don't know."

Two cell phones chime with messages and for once, Aria's left alone. Caleb reads his aloud, perhaps the first –A text he's ever received. "_That'll teach Hanna not to rat out a friend. That is, if she makes it to see the end. Kisses, -A._"

Toby's message is just as horrifying. "_All the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put Spencer back together again. –A._"

They don't want to dwell too much upon what these messages could mean. As they race through the thicket of trees, Caleb says, "We have to call the police."

"Spencer called the police earlier," Aria notes. "They should already be here. We heard sirens, before."

"We need to call an ambulance," Toby then suggests. "I don't know what –A's threatening, but it doesn't sound good."

He has an almost desperate need to find Spencer, but at the same time, he's afraid of what he'll find when he does. If –A's quoting Humpty Dumpty, Toby is afraid that somewhere, wherever Spencer is, she's lying in pieces. He can't think about this; he refuses to. Instead, he focuses upon finding her. His eyes scan every inch of the forest as the three of them tear through it. A few hundred feet from the ski resort, they find Spencer's shoes; not exactly a good sign, but a slight clue. Toby spots movement out of the corner of his eye and they slow to a stop. He hears a low whimper, a groan and then there's a flash of blue fabric emerging from behind a giant tree trunk.

"It's Hanna," Aria announces immediately and Caleb doesn't have to be told twice.

A tumble of blonde curls is the next thing they see as they approach the trees. Caleb kneels beside her, his hands gently cupping her face. "Han. Thank God we found you."

Her face is scrunched in pain and there's a giant gash on her hairline, gently oozing blood down her cheek and pooling in her collarbone. She struggles to sit against the tree and says, "That bitch really has it out for me."

Caleb pulls the pocket square from his jacket and begins to mop up the blood. Hanna tries to swat at his hands, saying, "Stop! You're going to ruin it!"

"Hanna, you're bleeding profusely," He chides. "You think I'm going to sit back and watch that happen?"

She holds the cloth to her forehead and Caleb grabs her other arm to help her up. Hanna recoils in pain and shrieks, "_Ow!_ What the hell?"

Caleb lets go as if he's burned her, only noticing now the way her left arm is bent in a way it shouldn't be. "Yeah, that's broken."

"Do you think?" Hanna shoots back sarcastically. "That bitch wrestled me to the ground and I heard something crack. I must've busted my skull on the way down."

They're all stuck in an awkward limbo for a moment while Hanna nurses her wound. She's grimacing and whining in pain, but then she asks, "Where are Spencer and Emily?"

Toby shakes his head, agitated. "We haven't found them yet."

"Well what are you still doing here?" Hanna asks. "I'm fine! Go look for them!"

"You're fine?" Caleb repeats, skeptical. "Hanna, you look like Rocky Balboa used your face for boxing practice."

"Wow," Hanna grimaces. "You really know just what to say to a girl, huh?"

Aria kneels beside her in the dirt. "I'll stay with Hanna. You guys go. I'll call an ambulance, too."

Toby and Caleb nod, the latter kissing Hanna on the forehead ever so gently before he goes. Then they're running again, still as urgent as ever, because they may have found two of the girls, but a fifty percent success rate isn't exactly what they're aiming for. Toby's clutching Spencer's shoes like a lifeline, as though he's expecting them to lead him right to her. He and Caleb see a lighter patch of trees up ahead, as though they're thinning out, and head towards it. There's a clearing in the woods and they do their best to search every inch of the area for a sign of either of the remaining girls. There's nothing to go off of but dirt and pines.

After the clearing, there's a drop-off; they've literally hit a dead end. Toby asks, "Now what?"

"I guess we turn around," Caleb suggests. "Look somewhere else?"

And they're about to do just that. But something, call it a hunch, makes Toby peer over the edge before they do. He steps closer to the precipice of the cliff face and the moment he spots a flicker of purple, he _knows_. He can't tear his eyes off of her. Spencer is lying in crumpled heap on the rocks below and she's lying incredibly still. Her one leg is bent at an awkward angle and her head is pillowed roughly on a boulder. That beautiful plum dress he'd admired her in only hours earlier is now tattered and torn and her feet are caked with dirt and blood. Toby can feel his heart slamming against his ribcage, fighting to be free, and his breath catches in his throat, but not for the reason it had earlier this evening. Caleb senses his hesitation and comes to stand beside him, peering over the edge and inhaling sharply in surprise.

Without a warning, Toby begins to search for a way down, blinded by the panic and fear and needing to be with her, needing to be beside her. Caleb holds him back. "Whoa, whoa, what do you think you're doing?"

"I have to get her out of there," Toby tells him. "Let me go."

"No, you are in no frame of mind to be climbing down the side of a mountain," Caleb disagrees. "I know you're freaked out, but if you climb down there like this, you're going to end up just like her."

Toby shakes his head. "I can't leave her down there."

"No one's telling you to," Caleb insists. "Look, go back to Aria and Hanna. Direct the paramedics this way. I'll go down there and make sure she's all right. But we can't move her, Toby. We could end up doing more harm than good."

Toby looks torn; he'd rather willingly fling himself over the edge than leave her right now. But eventually he relents, saying, "Okay. But just tell me she's breathing first. Please just tell me she's still… She's…"

"It's not that far of a drop," Caleb tries to reassure him. "She's going to be okay."

Toby looks skeptical, but Caleb turns and begins to descend the side of the mountain. Sirens wail in the distance and Toby finds himself holding his breath the entire time Caleb's climbing down. After an agonizingly long time, Caleb finally reaches the bottom. He gingerly steps around Spencer and touches two fingers to her neck, leaning over her to be sure she's breathing. After a minute that seems like an eternity, Caleb glances up and nods. "Her pulse is slow, but she's breathing."

Letting out a breath, Toby nods gratefully and sprints in the other direction, in search of medical attention. Caleb takes a seat beside Spencer and as he does, her eyes flutter open, darting every which way at once. Caleb's eyes widen and he asks, "Spencer? Can you hear me? Are you alright?"

Her eyes are languid as she tries to take in her surroundings. She murmurs something Caleb can't make out, so he questions, "What? What did you say?"

But she doesn't repeat it. Her eyes shut firmly once more and consciousness leaves her all over again. Caleb tells her anyway, "Just hang on, okay? We're going to get you out of here."

By the time Toby reaches Aria and Hanna again, he finds them in time to watch as Hanna's loaded into an ambulance and briefly relays to Aria what he and Caleb had found. Aria tells him they still hadn't seen a sign of Emily, but Toby can only take one crisis at a time. Aria accompanies Hanna's ambulance to the hospital while Toby leads another team of EMTs back through the clearing and over the side of the cliff. The fashion a pulley system, load Spencer onto a stretcher and spout off a bunch of medical jargon that Toby doesn't quite understand. He helps Caleb up over the side of the cliff and tells him about Hanna and though the two would like to stay behind to search for Emily, they had already scoured every inch of that forest and hadn't yet prevailed.

As they load Spencer into an ambulance, Toby insists, "I'm riding with her."

A paramedic gives him the once-over and asks, "Are you immediate family?"

"No, I'm her boyfriend," Toby informs them, not backing down. "But I'm all she has right now, so I'm riding with her."

"Look kid, that's really not policy-"

"I'm not a kid; I'm nineteen years old," Toby corrects, his blood beginning to boil. "I don't care about your policy. You can't make me leave her alone. I won't do that."

The paramedic sighs and waves him in. "Alright, alright. Come on."

Toby pulls himself further into the cab and the doors slam shut behind him. Spencer's still unconscious, but that doesn't stop him from slipping one of her cold, lifeless hands into his own. He kisses her knuckles and keeps a vigilant watch on her face for any sign of movement. The sirens are blaring through the post-midnight air and Toby is racing through the Poconos in an ambulance instead of enjoying the rest of prom night with his girlfriend and their friends. He wishes he hadn't expected things to turn out this way, but making a deal with –A is synonymous to signing their own death certificates. He glances at Spencer now, lying on a stretcher and deathly pale, and remembers how a week ago, she'd sobbed and clung to him and bared her soul. _I love you and it's not enough to keep you safe_, she had expressed helplessly and Toby hadn't known what to tell her. He still doesn't, but now he knows how she feels.

Her eyes open slowly and Toby nearly stops breathing. He addresses her softly, "Spencer?"

She looks at him, but she doesn't see him. She murmurs something quietly, her lips barely parting, and Toby can't quite make it out. "What did you say?"

"Em…" She breathes slowly. "Emily."

"I don't know where she is, Spencer," Toby tells her regretfully. "We haven't found her yet."

Her eyes close again and this unnerves him. "Hey, hey, stay here. Stay with me. Spencer… Spence…"

But his pleas fall upon deaf ears. She's unconscious again within minutes and Toby's not sure he'd reached her at all. He doesn't know the extent of her injuries. He doesn't know half of the terms the EMTs keep shouting at each other. But he does know that he loves this girl with everything he has and he can't bear to lose her. When they arrive at the hospital moments later, the paramedics usher him out of the ambulance and point him in the direction of the waiting room. They unload the stretcher, rush her through the emergency room and tell him they are not allowed to release any more information about her condition, no matter how hard he pleads. He trudges through the doors of the waiting room and finds Caleb and Aria, in the same predicament.

The three slump into hard plastic chairs and begin to wait.

* * *

"I want them sued," Peter Hastings decides. "I'm going to sue them."

Veronica looks exhausted when she asks, "Who?"

"That ski resort. The Poconos. Rosewood High," Peter lists. "Hell, I'll sue the whole damn state of Pennsylvania if I have to."

"That wouldn't solve anything," Veronica tells him.

"Maybe not," He agrees. "But it would feel good."

Toby watches his girlfriend's parents argue in both amusement and pride. The only time he'd seen either of them this riled up had been earlier on in the year, when they'd come to him in worry and in frustration over Spencer's relapse, hoping he could talk some sense into her. If Spencer could see them now, Toby thinks, she would finally understand that they do indeed care for her just as much as her sister. As he glances around the now empty waiting room, Toby realizes that Melissa isn't here. Perhaps Spencer's parents care an awful lot about her, Toby doesn't doubt that, but had he been wrong about Melissa? After all, her sister is in the hospital, miles and miles away from home, and yet Melissa doesn't have the common courtesy to show up or even call to see if she's all right. Insensitive, yes. But also a bit suspicious.

It's been hours since they'd brought her in and yet, they still know as much as they did then. Caleb had met Ashley Marin at the door and had gone down a separate hallway with her when the doctor beckoned them for news on Hanna. Aria had gone back to prom and had employed Holden in the further search for Emily, promising to keep both Toby and Caleb in the know if she were to find her. And Toby had awaited the Hastings' arrival and now the three of them are anxiously awaiting any news of Spencer's condition. Caleb texts Toby a moment later informing him Hanna has a broken wrist, fresh stitches on her forehead and a moderate concussion, but nothing too major. Here's to hoping, both guys agree, Spencer is relatively the same.

Peter spots a handful of police officers down the hall and says, "Great, the police are here. I'll talk to them about getting an investigation going on this ski resort."

"Peter, honestly," Veronica sighs in frustration. "I'm just as angry as you are, but now is not the time for this."

"Now is _just_ the time," He disagrees. "Our daughter went to prom and left in an ambulance!"

Toby speaks up then, his voice timid. "I'm sorry, Mr. Hastings."

Peter looks at him like he's grown a second head and Veronica says, "Oh, Toby, nobody blames you."

"You know who I blame? Alison DiLaurentis," Peter growls. "Nothing good has come to Spencer since she became friends with that girl."

"Excuse me," A doctor cuts in. "I'm Doctor Jennings. Are you family of Spencer Hastings?"

"Yes," Veronica stands and Peter halts his aggravated pacing. "How is she?"

"Stable," Dr. Jennings nods. "Her right hip was dislocated, so we gave her medication to ease the pain and set it back into place. It wasn't severe enough to need surgical intervention and she will be able to walk straight away, but it may be painful for about a week or so and she should refrain from any strenuous physical activity and stay off of it when she can. She also had a couple of cracked ribs, which is a very common injury in a fall of this nature, and it may make breathing painful for a while, but they will heal on their own in one to two months' time. Her hip did break her fall and she's lucky it wasn't her head, but she does have a moderate to severe concussion, so we're going to need to keep her overnight to observe her before we release her into your care."

It's a whirlwind of information and though he sees both of her parents breathe easy, Toby still asks, "So she's okay? She's going to be okay?"

"Yes," The doctor confirms. "She's definitely going to be in pain for quite some time; a couple weeks, a month at the most. But she's expected to make a full recovery."

Veronica asks anxiously, "Can we see her?"

"Absolutely," Dr. Jennings grants. "Right this way."

Toby sinks back in his chair as the Hastings' follow the doctor down the long hallway. He must impatiently wait his turn, but he could do so a bit easier now that he knows Spencer's mostly okay. He sends a quick text to Caleb and Aria letting them know Spencer would be fine and asks if either of them had yet seen or heard from Emily. He receives a negative reply. He tries to come up with an adequate response, but it's difficult; where on Earth could Emily possibly be, aside from the obvious? He doesn't get time to figure it out. A police officer approaches him and Toby nods politely. But he isn't just saying hello.

"Toby Cavanaugh, right?" The officer asks and Toby's palms begin to sweat. He _hates_ cops.

"That's right," He answers calmly, trying not to let his fear show.

"Is it true that you accompanied Miss Hastings to the hospital this evening?" The officer probes. "Sources tell me you joined her in the ambulance."

Toby nods. "That's true."

"And you were with her all night?"

"We went to prom together," Toby informs him. "So, yeah. I was with her all night."

The officer nods his understanding and implores, "Then how did your prom date end up at the bottom of a cliff?"

Toby frowns. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" The officer wonders skeptically. "She fell and sustained pretty serious injuries. You must've seen it happen."

Toby shakes his head guiltily. "I wasn't with her then."

"You weren't?" The officer asks. "But you said you were with her all night."

"Not then," Toby offers. "She stepped outside to get some air. I was worried when she didn't come back so I went looking for her and found her there."

"You did, did you?" The officer questions skeptically. "So if she only went outside to get some air, as you've stated, how did she end up over the side of the drop-off?"

"I told you, I don't know," Toby agonizes. "I think… I think someone pushed her."

"Someone?" The officer coaxes. "Or you?"

His eyes darken. "No."

"I'm just saying, your story sounds awfully convenient," The officer badgers. "Are you sure you two didn't get in an argument? Leave the prom not to make a scene? Are you sure you didn't take things a bit too far?"

Toby stands and looks the officer straight in the eye. "I would _never_ do anything to hurt Spencer. Ever."

"What is going on here?"

They both turn to find Veronica, hands on her hips, Peter trailing behind her. The officer immediately backs down, saying, "Just asking some routine questions, ma'am. As I've been told, Mr. Cavanaugh is the last one to have seen your daughter before her accident."

Veronica's a lawyer; she doesn't buy it for a second. "And you're questioning him without a parent or lawyer present?"

"He isn't a minor, ma'am," The officer maintains. "He doesn't need a parent. They were standard questions, honest."

"He still has a right to an attorney and I didn't see one present," Veronica shoots back. "Anything you ask him is inadmissible in court until he has legal representation."

The officer nods. "Sure ma'am. I'm sorry. Won't happen again."

Peter puts in, "Toby, what did he ask you?"

The officer backpedals and says, "Now that won't be necessary, sir. I was just doing my job."

"Excuse me," Peter cuts him off. "Now I'm doing mine. Toby, what did he ask you?"

"If I saw what happened," Toby replies. "If I had anything to do with… If I was the one who…"

"Making an outlandish accusation without any substantial evidence to back it up?" Peter exclaims in surprise. "Plus, you're badgering a witness and you're not even on trial. Are you trying to lose your job?"

"No, sir, I wasn't trying-"

"I'll tell you what you weren't trying to do," Veronica states, her claws out and ready to pounce. "You weren't trying to look at the facts. There is absolutely no reason for you to think that he might be violent, when we, as Spencer's _parents_, have seen nothing of the sort. I don't appreciate you bothering us with this kind of nonsense when we should be focused on my daughter."

The officer is dumbfounded, but not as much as Toby is. If he glanced outside at this very moment, hell might be freezing over, because he never expected, not in a million years, to be defended by the very people who hadn't wanted him with their daughter in the first place. He might be standing there, mouth agape, for an eternity, but eventually, Veronica turns to him and says, "Toby, why don't you go in and see her while she's still awake? We'll deal with this one."

"Uh… yeah, sure." Toby manages to utter. "Thanks."

He isn't sure what happens next and he mostly doesn't care. His mind's on Spencer, as it has been all night, and though he's been sitting there for hours, though it's pushing two a.m., he's suddenly as alert as ever. The doctor points out her room and he thanks him quickly before pushing the door open, stepping inside and letting it shut gingerly behind him. The pale blue hospital gown looks vibrant under the harsh medical lighting and against her pallid skin. There's an industrial-sized ice pack compressed around her hip and though she's not hooked up to any daunting machinery, she still looks exhausted, out of it, and not quite herself.

At the sound of the door shutting, Spencer looks up and there's a look in her eye Toby can't read. He calls out tentatively, "Hi."

Confusion clouds her bright and shining eyes and she asks slowly, "Who are you?"

His heart drops to the pit of his stomach and instantly, he has the sudden urge to vomit. She'd fallen twenty-five, maybe thirty feet and she'd hit her head on a boulder when she'd gotten there; he was of course expecting her to suffer from a concussion. But never had amnesia even crossed his mind. His previous concern had been how quickly she would recover, not whether or not she'd remember who he was when he saw her again. He doesn't know what to do. She's staring back at him, terrified, and Toby doesn't know if he can bear to explain their relationship to her. He doesn't know if he can physically relay everything they've gone through without breaking down.

After a beat, the feigned confusion in her eyes melts away and she grins slowly. "I'm just kidding."

Toby stares at her a moment before telling her, "That's not funny."

"I'm sorry," She murmurs. "Don't be mad. I was trying to lighten the mood."

"That's not funny," He repeats, pulling a chair up to her bed and sitting beside her. "You scared the shit out of me."

"I'm okay," She insists. "I have an awful headache and it hurts to breathe and it feels like there's glass in my hip… But I'm okay."

"Are you in pain?" Toby asks, fearing the answer.

She slowly shakes her head. "I don't know what they gave me, but this stuff is _good_."

Toby nods and when she inches her hand towards him, he doesn't hesitate to take it. "This isn't really how I imagined spending our prom night."

It was meant to make her laugh, but she frowns instead. "I'm sorry."

"It isn't your fault," Toby insists. "What are you sorry for?"

"I ruined it," Spencer tells him. "We were having such a good time and I ruined it with –A drama. I should've just waited."

"Spencer," Toby disagrees. "You and I both know you wouldn't have waited. When you've got that intelligent mind of yours set on something, it's impossible to change it."

"I should've known it wasn't going to work," Spencer says. "We can't count on Ali and –A always finds a way tear us apart."

"Don't worry about that right now," Toby tells her. "You should rest. We can figure this out later."

But suddenly, something's crossed her mind and she's instantly worried. "Where's Emily? She was right next to me in the woods and then she wasn't. Did you find her?"

"We found Aria and Hanna," Toby lets her know gently. "Caleb and I went looking for you guys after you left. Aria's fine and Hanna's about as banged up as you are. But… We never found Emily. Aria went back to look, but so far, she hasn't turned up."

"Toby, she was with me," Spencer laments. "She was _right there_ and then… Then I couldn't find her."

"We'll find her," Toby promises. "She's going to be alright, Spence. It'll be okay."

She looks like she wants to dissent, but she doesn't. Instead, she asks, "Did you see Melissa out there?"

Toby shakes his head regretfully. "I haven't seen her since prom."

"Oh," Spencer sighs. "I just thought… I don't know. I thought she'd be here."

"She should be," Toby agrees. "I don't know why she isn't."

She leans back against the pillow and says, "Despite how it ended, I had a really good time tonight."

"I did, too," Toby agrees. "Until I found you at the bottom of a cliff. –A sent me a text saying she'd Humpty Dumpty-ed you and I was afraid I was going to find you in pieces."

Spencer eyes him. "She what?"

"_All the king's horses and all the king's men couldn't put Spencer back together again_," Toby recites from memory. "How would you have taken that?"

She groans. "-A is such a bitch."

"Tell me about it," Toby agrees. "So Ali just… She just left?"

"She took off." Spencer confirms. "We all watched her run. And we had to pay for it."

"-A took it out on you."

"-A was _pissed_," Spencer corrects. "She realized we'd played her like a fool. But in the end, none of us got what we wanted."

Toby points out, "Except Alison."

"Yeah," She frowns. "Except Alison."

He stands a bit, suddenly, and bends over her to kiss her as gently as he can. "I love you. You scared me immensely tonight and I don't want to come that close to losing you again."

She smiles slowly. "I'm sorry. I love you, too."

There is not much conversation, after that. The medicine they've administered is strong and she fades quickly into a restful sleep and despite many pokes and prods from her parents, Toby refuses to leave her side. Somehow, he too manages to fall asleep and perhaps it's seeing her so peaceful for once that does the trick. Or, maybe it's the fact that here in the hospital, with police patrolling the corridors and Toby at her bedside, she's finally safe. When the morning sun greets him, so does a text from Caleb; Aria had spent the entire night searching for Emily and she'd finally found her, just outside Rosewood. Emily's freaked out but ultimately unharmed and the moment Spencer awakens, Toby shares this good news with her. They're only able to rejoice for a moment, however, because soon after, Spencer gets a text of her own.

"_Em was fun, but I've traded her in. Didn't I tell you I always win? I've got her now. This is where we say goodbye. –A._"


	16. Sixteen

**Good morning and happy Monday, friends! I hope all of you are doing wonderfully. I've got to update quickly before I leave for work (six hours with the infants today what whaaat) but I still want to take the time to tell you all that you're fabulous! Your reviews were spectacular and I loved reading them. I thought it was funny that a lot of you were like, "Well, they're hurt, so they can't go after -A now!" HA. Since when have any of the girls listened to reason? ;)**

**This is the chapter before THE chapter- next chapter is the big showdown, so prepare yourselves. Start making your final guesses now. Granted, if all of you said someone different, you're all probably right. I don't know why the girls (on the show, I mean) think there's only one -A. It just seems impossible to me. Even when it was Mona, it wasn't JUST Mona, you know? Anyway, I'm rambling. I hope you enjoy this chapter and I look forward to reading if you did or didn't! Thanks guys!**

* * *

Sixteen

The scariest thing about the new situation they find themselves in is that they are no longer getting texts from –A.

It's not the fact that –A has Alison or even what he or she could possibly be doing to her. That's black and white; that's immensely clear. They know –A wants Alison dead and they know, without a doubt, that if she's still alive, she won't be for very long. But that's not what terrifies them. It's not knowing what to expect; it's the lack of terror from their lives that they'd come to expect and had grown used to. There are no messages hidden in their fortune cookies, no finger bones hidden in their clothing and no dirt and earthworms in their Chinese takeout boxes. There is no bright red lipstick staining their mirrors, no alphabet cereal with all the letters but A picked out, and no creepy dolls sent to them telling them what to do. There is no name-calling, no taunting and no death threats. There is literally nothing at all.

For almost two years, now, the girls had gotten used to their everyday actions being broken up by these menacing messages. They had been bullied and tormented and tortured endlessly every second of every day. They had been molded into weeping willows, forever bending under the weight and pressure of their lies and secrets but not allowed to break. Just when they thought they would never be free of –A's clutches, all contact is cut off from their cyber-bully and they never hear from her again. But it's not a welcoming relief as they'd expected. It's harrowing and they all know why. The reason has become impeccably clear; they'd known for weeks, months even, that they were not –A's main target, but this just proves their theory. Hanna, Aria, Emily and Spencer, along with any and all of their friends and paramours who'd received a message from this anonymous being, were always and forever simply collateral damage. All –A ever wanted was Alison.

The morning after the disaster at prom, Hanna and Spencer are both released from the hospital. Hanna's got an obnoxious hot pink cast on her wrist and Spencer's leaving in crutches, not quite able to put all her weight on her fragile hip just yet. They drive back to Rosewood in an excruciating silence and part ways when their parents separate to bring them home. Peter and Veronica treat Spencer like she's made of glass and only now does she understand what it's like to be Melissa. She hates it. Just because she's walking with two steel helpers now doesn't mean that she can't take care of herself. She's frustrated and terrified and angry; she bites their heads off and struggles upstairs. She just wants to be left alone for _one second_ so she can think. Her room is quiet and provides a perfect opportunity to hatch a scheme. She knows her family doesn't understand, but she needs to do this to bring back a sense of normalcy.

They of course misinterpret this as her not responding well to them, so they send in some reinforcements.

There's a knock on her door about an hour later and Spencer groans. "What?"

"Hey," Toby greets her jovially, entering her bedroom and shutting the door behind him. "I came to see how you're doing."

Spencer doesn't look up from her laptop. "You mean my parents employed you to pick my brain."

"No, I'm genuinely concerned," He disagrees. "And they are too, so whatever I can get out of you will be a bonus for them."

"Okay Toby, no offense," She pleads. "But I cannot do this right now. I don't have time."

"Are you kidding? You're injured," He states. "All you've got is time."

"I'm not on bed rest," She corrects. "The doctor just said to stay off of it as much as possible for the first week or so. But I'm fine. It's not like I can't walk, it just… hurts when I do."

"Hence your new companions," Toby nods towards the crutches leaning against her bedside table. "So what are you doing?"

"Toby," She sighs in frustration again. "I can't focus when you're giving me the third degree."

"Third degree?" Toby laughs. "I just asked a question!"

"Well, I'm busy, so…" She trails off and goes back to typing.

Toby rolls his eyes but sits beside her on the bed. She's stubborn, yes, but so is he. "How are your ribs?"

"Still cracked," She answers shortly. "Still feels like someone's stabbing me each time I breathe."

"What about your head?"

"It's fine," Spencer assures him. "I promise you I'm okay."

"But you'd tell me if you weren't?"

"Yes," She sighs and closes her laptop, reaching for her crutches. "I need a glass of water."

Toby stands instead. "Let me get it for you."

She shakes her head. "I can get it myself."

"Yeah, but you'll have to go all the way downstairs on those things," Toby reasons. "It'll take me ten seconds."

"Toby, it's not a big deal," She argues. "I can get my own glass of water!"

"I'm not doubting that," He tells her. "But it'll be easier if I get it for you!"

"Can you just stop?" Spencer pleads. "Please, I can handle it!"

"I just want to help you!" Toby exclaims. "Why are you so mad at me?"

"I'm not," She insists. "I'm not mad at you. I just… I need some time to myself. I _have_ to figure this out."

"Figure what out?" Toby wonders, his voice softening. "What is –A making you do?"

"-A isn't making me do anything," She tells him, her voice falling an octave. "That's the problem."

Toby's eyebrows furrow. "What do you mean?"

"It's nothing," She shakes her head. "I just have to get this done."

"Spencer," Toby says softly. "You're doing it again."

"Doing what?" She implores even though she knows exactly what he's talking about.

He gives her a look. "Shutting me out. Not telling me the whole truth. If something's bothering you, and it clearly is, then let me help you."

"It's really sweet of you to want to help," Spencer tells him. "But this is bigger than us. I've tried to find a way out of it, but there's nothing we can do."

"About what?"

"When –A gave Emily back, she took Alison instead," Spencer informs him softly. "She's done sending us messages, she's done trying to kill us, because she never wanted us. She wanted Ali and now she has her. We've tried reaching out to her, we've tried bartering with her, but she hasn't responded. She's going to kill Alison and there's no way around it. I've tried everything, but no matter what I do, it isn't enough! I'm taking college level calculus, I've won twelve decathlons and yet I can't figure this out. I can't solve this, Toby!"

"No one is asking you to," Toby tells her, taking her hands. "At least not alone."

She neither agrees nor disagrees and Toby understands where her previous frustration had stemmed from. It hadn't been directed at him, but at the immense pressure she feels to always, _always_, come out on top. Only this time, she hadn't, and he can venture a guess as to what she's feeling because of it. Her parents, her friends and, he thinks guiltily, even he had always relied on her to be the problem-solver, the critical thinker, and more often than not, she had taken on this role with pride and had gladly fought their battles for them. But she's been doing it too long; she doesn't have a lot of fight left within her. Toby wants to remove all the burden from her shoulders, but he knows that until –A is finally brought to justice, that burden will never really be gone.

"I'll help you," Toby states firmly. "I'll always help you. But you're right. This is bigger than us. We need to call in some help."

"We need to assemble a task force," Spencer announces, her demeanor completely changing suddenly. "Toby! You're a genius! Why didn't I think of that?"

She kisses him chastely before reaching for her crutches and hobbling over to her desk. Toby looks confused and says, "That's not really what I was-"

"I'm going to call everyone- _everyone_- and get them over here," Spencer declares. "I think I've finally got an idea."

Toby watches her work, make phone calls and scribble in a notebook and once again revels in the beauty that is Spencer Hastings's mind. Even when she's down, she doesn't stay that way for long.

* * *

Twenty or so minutes later, Spencer's bedroom is filled with post-it notes, torn pieces of loose leaf paper, hastily jotted-down notes, and Hanna, Caleb, Emily and Aria, along with her and Toby. They're so deep into the plan, now that they don't even know where it all began. But they've hit a wall and it's clear from the look of defeat on all of their faces. Hanna's bent a paper clip and is trying to stick it down her cast to reach an impossible itch, while Emily eyes her in disgust from beside her. Caleb is tapping his pen against his nose absentmindedly, staring off into space. Aria's leaning over Spencer's shoulder as the latter pores the Internet for more information and Toby has taken over Spencer's notebook and is doodling elaborately. They're stuck.

"Okay, that was my last shot," Spencer sighs agitatedly. "Anyone else have any ideas?"

"You're the smart one," Aria tells her. "What do you think?"

"I have an idea," Hanna announces. "But it's not a good one. Anyone else before we use it as a last resort?"

Caleb snaps back to the conversation and asks, "I think I zoned out on the last bit of our conversation. What are we trying to figure out?"

"How to get to –A," Toby fills him in. "More importantly, locating where she is."

"Do we really want to find her?" Caleb then wonders. "I mean, even if we do, it's not like any of you are really in the mindset to be capturing a killer."

Hanna eyes him. "What do you mean?"

"I mean the five pounds of plaster you're sporting," Caleb says, motioning towards her cast. "Spencer's on crutches. Aria and Emily were pushed to emotional limits. You guys can't seriously want to do this _now_, of all times."

"I'm kind of with Caleb on this one," Toby agrees. "You guys should be recharging; _resting_ for once. This is crazy. We shouldn't do this now."

"Now is all we've got," Spencer disagrees. "-A has Ali now and if we have any hope of finding her... If we have any hope of saving her life, we can't waste any time. We can't give -A the satisfaction of time because we all know how quick she is to turn to murder. Ali doesn't stand a chance."

There's a brief pause before Toby adds, "Okay, but don't expect us to sit on the sidelines. I'm not watching them load you into an ambulance again. I won't let that happen."

"Yeah, we're not going to sit back and watch you guys get Guantanamo-ed." Caleb stands firm. "We're involved, now. Let us help."

Hanna shakes her head. "Caleb-"

"No, no it's okay. I actually have the perfect job for both of you," Spencer says suddenly, a light bulb going off. "Which we'll get to, but we have to start at the beginning. How do we find -A?"

"Well why don't we walk through what we know so far?" Emily suggests. "Everything we've learned, everything Ali's told us, and maybe something will jump out at us."

"That's a good idea," Spencer nods. "I volunteer as scribe."

She snatches her notebook back from Toby, who frowns at the loss of entertainment. When no one says anything, she deadpans, "Wow, thanks for the help, guys. Don't everyone speak at once."

"I'll start with the obvious," Emily says. "-A tried to kill Ali."

"And you, a bunch of times," Hanna points out. "Like this past weekend, most recently."

"I don't think she was trying to kill me," Emily shakes her head. "I'm pretty sure I was just a hostage."

"What, until something better came along?" Spencer probes. "That's insane."

"I'm not disagreeing," Emily replies. "But she-he-they took me away, tied me up and blindfolded me and I couldn't see anything. All I heard was a bunch of whispered voices and then we were driving somewhere. I don't know where. I thought I heard Ali's voice and then the next thing I knew, Aria was there. I didn't see anything. I barely heard anything."

"Well, you didn't think you heard Ali's voice," Hanna says. "It _was_ Ali's voice."

"Well, yeah," Emily frowns. "I know that _now_. I just... I wish I knew _something_. I want to help but... It was pitch-black, muffled... I must've been in the trunk."

"Em, it's okay," Spencer assures her. "What else do we know about -A?"

"-A has a ridiculous amount of money," Aria adds. "I mean, I'm just guessing, but how else would she be able to send us all our lovely gifts?"

"-A has no problem committing murder and getting away with it," Toby puts in. "There's probably more than one of them."

"Okay, this is good," Spencer nods, writing furiously. "Keep going."

"-A enjoys destroying our relationships," Hanna announces and when Aria smirks, she adds, "Not yours, but mine and Caleb's and how many times did she break you and Toby up, Spence?"

"Too many," Spencer frowns and Toby nods his agreement. "What else?"

"Ali once told me that –A should be more obvious to you, specifically," Aria mentions to Spencer. "That could be a clue."

"We also know –A stole the game from Mona around the time she went to Radley," Hanna supplies. "Another clue."

"Wait," Emily says. "-A probably has background in some kind of science or medicine. She drugged my pain cream, she threatened taking Hanna's blood, she had several human bones and let's not forget how she played messenger between Hanna's teeth."

"Why can't we forget?" Hanna shudders. "I'm trying to."

"-A also stole a copy of Alison's autopsy," Toby mentions. "Jenna had it and she said she got it from Garrett, but there had to have been other copies. Garrett didn't steal the only one, right?"

"Probably not," Spencer agrees. "This is so good, you guys, keep going."

"Oh my god," Aria says suddenly. "I think –A's lair is in Philly."

"Really?" Emily exclaims. "How do you know that?"

"Every time we track down a shop where one of our weird little gifts from –A was bought, it's always in Philadelphia," Aria explains. "How have we never figured that out before?"

"I don't know," Spencer shakes her head. "But that's genius. I think we're going to Philadelphia. But _where_?"

"I don't know," Hanna mimics. "But let's not forget that whoever –A is, Mrs. D was covering for them. So they have to have some kind of connection to her."

"That club, the NAT club?" Caleb adds. "They made movies of you, all of you. Whoever –A is got their hands on those movies. So either they're a member of the club, or that's why the club no longer exists."

"Remember that creepy kid, Seth, from the doll hospital?" Aria asks. "He said a man and a woman with dark hair wanted to hurt her. Could they be in this together? I mean we think there are multiple people anyway; are these two people –A?"

"Jason said he saw CeCe and Melissa talking the night Alison disappeared," Hanna points out. "Did he know too much? Is that why he's missing?"

"Or is he the one we should be afraid of?" Emily wonders. "You just don't know anymore."

"I think –A's a guy," Hanna protests. "Remember when Grunwald told us 'he's hoping you'll lead him right to her'? Plus she thought one of us was involved with him, and that's really sick."

"That was back when it was Ezra, though," Emily disagrees. "Grunwald was wrong. _Ali_ was wrong, she told me herself. She said she thought she knew who was after her, who she was afraid of, but she was wrong."

"I'm not entirely convinced it's not Melissa and CeCe," Aria says. "They're tag-teaming this whole thing. You'll see."

"But how do you explain the guy?" Hanna argues. "A man and a woman wanted to hurt her, Seth said."

"Okay, we're trusting a nine-year-old who's never seen the sun?"

"The guy could easily be Wilden!"

"Wilden's _dead!_"

"Doesn't mean he wasn't involved!"

"Guys," Spencer halts them. "I can't keep up with you! Stop arguing about this. It's getting us nowhere. Is that all we know about –A?"

No one else says anything more, so she takes this as a yes. "Okay. –A's probably in Philadelphia. That's a start. But Philadelphia's a big city. How are we supposed to narrow it down?"

They're back at square one again. Hanna goes back to scratching beneath her cast, Emily and Aria sigh simultaneously in frustration and Spencer begins to chew on the end of her pen. Toby and Caleb share a mutual look of surprise and confusion. Most of what the girls had just spouted off they hadn't even known. They know, of course, that the –A trench runs pretty deep, but only now, only at the precipice of the end of all this madness, have they learned about everything the girls have been struggling with these past two years. The girls have said things this afternoon with the same nonchalance one might use when discussing a school assignment or a teeth cleaning. It's only then that Caleb and Toby truly realize how tired they've become and how desensitized they are to the danger. It's nothing, now. Maybe it was something before, maybe it incited fear and shock and anger, but now it's just part of their lives.

"Well, I guess it's time for plan B," Hanna announces. "Do you want to hear my idea?"

"Since you've been telling us how bad it is?" Aria counters. "Not really."

Hanna shoots her a disapproving look and Spencer smirks. "Go ahead, Han."

"I think we only have one option left," Hanna tells them. "We have to go to Mona."

"Ugh," Caleb groans. "I was afraid you were going to say that."

Emily frowns. "Do we have to? I was so looking forward to never talking to her again."

"No, no Hanna's right," Spencer agrees. "She's our only hope. I mean, who else knows what she knows?"

"Have I mentioned how much I love when you say I'm right?" Hanna beams. "See? Spencer's not the only one who can come up with good plans."

"I just wish it didn't involve the one person we can all collectively say we hate," Aria says bitterly. "That bitch is off her rocker and the less we interact with her, the better."

"I know," Hanna agrees. "But she's still on the –A Team. She's still involved. If anyone can get us a location, she can."

Reluctantly, they're all in accord that Hanna is, unfortunately, correct.

* * *

"You're kidding me, right? I mean, you've got to be kidding."

The next morning, a Monday, all six of them meet Mona outside the school and approach her with their teeth bared, their claws out, and no-nonsense looks painted on their faces. Getting Mona to help isn't going to be easy, nor is it going to be enjoyable, but if they had any hope of finding –A, and more importantly Alison, this is the only thing that would surely get them there. Mona had arrived to school a few minutes ago wearing a giant smile and a designer dress, but she isn't fooling anyone. After all, you can only hide behind a lie for so long before the truth eventually comes out. When they had approached her, she never could have guessed what they would ask and she certainly isn't about to hand over the information they seek. But, that is exactly what they expected.

Hanna shakes her head. "We're dead serious."

"Come on, this is a game, right?" Mona wonders. "Are we playing _Scooby Doo_? I'm tired of always being the villain. I think I'd like to be Daphne today; all I'll have to do is sit pretty and not get my hands dirty, but I'll still get to take all the credit. Sorry, Aria; I took your part."

Aria's frown turns into a glare, but Hanna cuts off her angry retort. "We're not playing, Mona. This isn't a game."

"You're right, it's _not_ a game," Mona agrees. "Because you know that if I gave you any information like that I'd end up in the freezer with a toe tag."

"We're not asking for a ride to her doorstep," Emily reasons. "We just want an address."

"Would you like a name, too, while you're at it?" Mona asks sarcastically. "A biography, maybe?"

"If you're giving it out," Spencer replies. "Look, I know how much you hate us and trust me, the feeling is mutual. But you are part of an organization that is responsible for _murders_. Do you really want to keep adding to that death toll? Making notches in your belt and checking behind you for police your entire life?"

"Spencer, you must be on drugs if you think I even have the slightest inkling as to where this person is," Mona shoots back. "You don't find –A; -A finds you."

Spencer draws back a bit, not enjoying the reference to her past struggle with pills. Toby's seen enough. He says, "Stop lashing out at us and get us what we need to know. You're wasting time. You're in constant contact with –A. It can't be that hard to make a request."

"You of all people should understand it doesn't work that way," Mona tells him. "It's her! It's always her! She calls first, she texts first, not the other way around. And I don't even know if she's a she! I told you, I don't know who it is!"

"You're lying," Hanna shakes her head, crossing her arms over her chest. "Lucas told us you know who it is. He said you've known for a while and you've been keeping it from all of us."

"Oh yeah? And where did that get Lucas?" Mona implores. "No one's seen or heard from him in a week."

Emily asks hesitantly, "Why? What did you do with him?"

"Don't you get it? This has nothing to do with me!" Mona exclaims. "This is all –A! You can't cross her or she gets rid of you. That's just the way it goes. And I've paid enough for my own mistakes that I don't need to pay for yours too."

"That's not what a friend does," Caleb insists. "You call yourself Hanna's friend, but you won't help her when she needs you. She's done everything for you and you've done nothing but destroy your entire friendship. You would rather let her suffer than ease her pain a little by helping her out. You might call yourself Hanna's friend, but that's not what friends do. You're selfish."

"Hanna," Mona pleads. "Please tell him I'm right. He doesn't know what he's talking about. Tell him it's too dangerous!"

"I can't," Hanna shakes her head. "I don't know who you are anymore. I thought our friendship meant more to you than that, but I guess not."

Just as the six are turning away, they hear Mona call out, "Wait!"

They face her once more and she sighs, resigned. "I'll have an answer by the end of the day."

Toby has the day off; he stays put. The rest go through the school day agitated and a little on edge, still not one hundred percent sure that they could trust Mona, but knowing it is literally their only option. If they're going to find Alison and if she is still, somehow, miraculously alive, they're going to have to call in external forces. They aren't going to find this mysterious tormentor alone. The day drags on slowly and the girls find themselves staring at the clocks in each classroom they're seated in, begging for the school to release them. Finally, the final bell rings and the six friends meet outside the school much like they had earlier that morning, awaiting Mona's arrival. When she approaches them, she slips Hanna a note and turns away.

"Wait," Hanna stops her. "You're not coming with us?"

"They're expecting me," Mona says. "But I think you'll be a bigger surprise."

"And that's the right address, right?" Spencer questions a bit skeptically. "You're not blindly leading us off a cliff?"

"No, Spencer," Mona sighs. "You didn't fare well last time you encountered a cliff. As far as I know, if you get to that address, -A will answer the door."

"How did you get the address so easily?" Aria wonders. "You made it seem like it was going to cost you an arm and a leg."

Mona purses her lips. "It just might."

"Well thank you," Hanna tells her. "Seriously. You have no idea how much this helps."

"I did it for you," Mona smiles. "Everything I do is for you, Hanna."

Somehow, Hanna finds this endearing, but the others are thoroughly terrified by her words. Without hesitation, the group splits up; Spencer and Toby in his truck and Emily driving the others in her car. They all tell their parents they're holed up in the library for the afternoon, studying for finals, and promise to be back before curfew. It's a promise they likely won't keep and they've certainly worn their trust very thin, but somehow, their parents buy the lie hook, line and sinker. They wonder if they've really become _that_ good at lying or if their parents just truly believe that their children can do no wrong; that it's not _their_ fault terrible things keep happening, it's the situation. Either way, it's likely not going to turn out very well for any of them. Their parents would, eventually, catch on; they just hope it will be before they fall down into the rabbit hole. Even still, the journey commences; a quick stop for gas and a programmed GPS and then they're on their way. They drive down the highway, trying with all their might not to think of what they're going to find; of _whom_ they're going to find. Two years in the making- it all boils down to this very moment.

Toby pulls off the thruway when they reach Philadelphia and behind them, Spencer can see Emily do the same. The city welcomes them back like an old friend but Spencer doesn't exactly feel welcome. Toby follows the directions of the GPS dextrously and all the while, Spencer watches the estimated time of arrival diminish and a pit grows in her stomach. She's not ready to find out who it is. She's mostly terrified of getting there and finding Alison dead, but she's also afraid of learning the identity of their tormentor, especially if it's someone who should have been blatantly obvious. Going through the facts in her head once more, Spencer tries to stick to any of the facts that may allude towards the suspect. After a beat, Spencer thinks she may have just solved this puzzle, even if a few of the pieces are still missing.

She doesn't get too long to dwell upon it. Toby comes to a stop and announces, "We're here."

Spencer glances up at the brownstone and isn't surprised that this is –A's lair. It's certainly off the beaten path and most likely doesn't get many visitors, solicitors or trick-or-treaters on Halloween. Spencer steps out of the car a bit unsteadily and Toby asks, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," She nods. "Why?"

"You left your crutches at home," He points out. "Your doctor certainly wouldn't like that."

Spencer rolls her eyes. "They just hold me back."

Toby laughs. "I'm not surprised to hear you say that."

"Look, I'm not in a cast. I don't need them," Spencer assures him. "But what we do need is to put our game faces on, because this is the real deal. Got it?"

"Aye, aye, captain," Toby agrees. "You be careful, alright?"

"I will be," She agrees. "You too. Don't let them see you. That's all part of the plan."

"I've got it."

She kisses him quickly and then he and Caleb disappear into the waning afternoon. Spencer and the others ascend the rickety stairs and try to take in their surroundings. Hearts pounding and breathing quick and shallow, they do everything they can to mask their fear as Spencer reaches out and pounds on the door. They're met with silence at first but then, after a moment and just as Spencer's going to knock again, they hear soft, padding footsteps coming forward. They brace themselves, still unsure of whether or not they're ready for the big reveal. It's now or never. They hear locks click out of place, the deadbolt switches to the other side and the door handle begins to turn. Ever so slowly, the door opens just a crack and all four girls simultaneously hold their breaths.

A voice comes from inside. "Spencer?"

The brunette in question appears as though her world has just been flipped on its axis as she replies, "Melissa?"


	17. Seventeen

**Alright, PLL support group- how are we doing after last night's episode? Lol I feel like every Wednesday we should have a discussion about the episode the previous night. I just feel bad for Jason, as usual, and I want more scenes of him with Spencer because I feel like they're literally in the same boat. The DiLaurentis' are all about Alison and the Hastings' are all about Melissa and I just feel like Spencer and Jason are cast aside. You feel me? Yeah. I really liked the scene at the end, though, with Peter, Spencer and Melissa. I just want to know what the eff Melissa's hiding haha.**

**Yeah, I'm stalling, basically. Because this is it- this is the mother of all chapters. It's freaking long and there's _so_ much going on and information literally flies at you in every direction. I had notes upon notes upon notes for this chapter written up; even _I_ couldn't keep track of all of it. Now this is obvious, but I still think it's worth mentioning- I am not in any way affiliated with the show, so all the "answers" I give you in this chapter are all based on my own speculation. Anything that coincides with the show later on is purely coincidental. I mean I know you probably knew that, but I don't want you to be like, "Spoilers, much?" Because let's face it, I'm probably wrong. Although at this point, I don't even think the writers are keeping track of all the loose ends they're creating. The show's timeline makes no sense (It's supposedly fall and there's going to be a Christmas episode? But 3x16 was in November? So the entirety of season 4 happened in like two/three weeks? Wtf?); I think they're confused. That makes all of us.**

**ANYWAY. I'm done rambling now. I really hope you don't think this chapter is stupid but I promise I won't hate you if you do. Let me know either way, kay? Kay. Love you all, you're my majestic little unicorns. Sorry for making it weird. Lates.  
**

* * *

Seventeen

"Melissa?" Spencer repeats, not believing her own voice as it speaks the blatant truth in front of her. "No, no, you can't be. You can't… You're not…"

It is evident from the look of horror and dread on Melissa's face that this is just as much of a surprise for her. The chocolate brown eyes identical to her sister's are as wide as saucers as they sweep over the four girls standing before her on the porch and it's a look Spencer's never seen on her sister before, because she's never been caught in the act. The coveted one, the favorite, the adored; Melissa Hastings has never had to explain herself to anyone. But someone had to have started it; someone is to blame. Someone fought their way into the girls' happy existence, broke all the windows and tracked mud on the floors and only now are they noticing Melissa's muddy shoes.

As quickly as it had appeared, the shock ebbs away and immediately melts into irritation. "Spencer, it isn't what it looks like."

"It isn't what it _looks_ like?" She squeals. "Please, tell me what it is, Melissa, because right now it looks like my _sister_ is the one responsible for the texts, the torture and the murders!"

"You are making a scene," Melissa hisses, trying to close the door. "I'll explain it when I get home. You have to get out of here."

"No, you'll explain it right now!" Spencer disagrees and she and the others force their way into the house despite Melissa's protests. "You think you're going to just send us on our way with an I-owe-you?"

"Keep your voice down!" Melissa orders. "What are you even doing here? How did you find this place?"

"What am _I_ doing here? What are _you_?" Spencer shouts, enraged. "I defended you to everyone! I believed in you, I didn't give up on you, and you were doing this behind my back the entire time! You're the one who's been sending those texts, who killed Wilden and Jenna and Grunwald and Ezra, who tried to kill Ali! You almost killed us, _all_ of us, in your attempt to get Ali and where did that get you? How did that satisfy you? And _why_? You're the Black Swan, the Black Widow… Melissa, you're –A."

"I'm _not_," Melissa insists just as heatedly as Spencer. "I can explain everything if you'll let me but you guys _need_ to get out of here. You can't be here. You have to go. You have to go _now_."

"I'm not going anywhere," Spencer shakes her head. "_We're_ not going anywhere until we get the truth!"

"We deserve the truth," Aria speaks up and asks, "Did you kill Ezra?"

"Are you the one who wrestled me in the woods at prom?" Hanna wonders, lifting her cast. "Sticks and stones may break my bones but guess what? You didn't kill me."

"CeCe said you hit Ali that night," Emily puts in. "And you did, didn't you?"

"How could you do this to us?" Spencer accuses hotly. "How could you do this to _me_?"

"We can't do this now. Not here," Melissa shoots back, throwing a cautionary glance at the long, darkened staircase. "You _have_ to keep your voices down. You can't let him hear you!"

At this, all four girls are silent. It's as though someone's flipped a switch; one moment, Spencer's sure she could tear Melissa's head clean off. Now, however, she's intrigued. "Let who hear us?"

"Don't," Melissa shakes her head nervously. "Don't do this now, Spencer. Just get out. Now, while you still can. I'll run damage control, I'll come home and I'll explain. I promise, just… Go. Please. Go!"

And just as they're about to heed this slightly terrifying warning, a door slams upstairs and the vibrations echo throughout the entire house. The four girls glance in the direction of the sound, frozen in motion, and Melissa frowns, her eyes once again fearful as she says, "Too late."

Footsteps, heavy and purposeful, are the next to be heard and resonate through the floorboards that lack a blanket of carpeting to muffle the sound. Spencer shares a quick glance with each of the three girls and not one of them sends her a look of reassurance back. They're lost; if Melissa isn't –A, then who is? There is a strange sense of hesitation and anxiety in the air that tells them this time, they're not simply grasping at straws. This time it's the real deal and they're about to come face to face with their tormentor. A sort of uncomfortable uneasiness comes over Spencer then; she feels like she's being forced on a rollercoaster against her will, one with corkscrews, loops, inversions, one she'd wanted to ride but now she's not so sure. For all the time they'd been anticipating this ending, all along they knew it would come to this, they've had time to prepare themselves. Only now does Spencer realize she hasn't even begun.

All eyes are on the apex of the stairs; all ears are trained to hear any possible kinds of struggle from Alison somewhere deep within this place. They're expecting some kind of flashy spectacle; maybe a hooded figure entering the scene with guns blazing and ten different phones on which to text. But as Melissa had informed them, it isn't a woman that descends the stairs, and all that time thinking –A was a woman, referring to –A as "she" and "her," had passed by in vain. There's no flowing red coat, no black hoodie, no creepy mask resembling their friend. He's dressed modestly in a pair of dark jeans and a sweater that looked as though it cost a fortune. Pausing at the foot of the stairs, he's just come into the light and his eyes scan across each of the girls' faces as though taking a moment to relish in their surprise and terror. A pompous smirk adorns his mouth instantly; one Spencer recognizes straightaway as having once tempted her and then repulsed her.

"Ah Melissa, I see you've invited company."

"They're not my company," Melissa disagrees. "Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum must've called them here."

"Jealous, are you?" He croons, his tone sickeningly saccharine and not at all genuine. "You had your chance, love, and you turned your nose up at it. Don't say I didn't warn you."

Turning on his heel, he surveys the girls before his eyes rest on one. "Spencer. It's good to see you again."

"Wren," Spencer says, barely choking his name out. "It was you… This whole time, you were behind this?"

"Surprised?" He grins wickedly and then calls down the hall, "Cecelia? Make yourself presentable; we have guests. And bring Meredith with you. I have a job for her."

There's a slight pause before they hear a familiar voice grumble, "Don't _call_ me Cecelia!"

When CeCe Drake emerges into the foyer, though, her demeanor changes. She spots the girls and reacts in a bit of surprise mixed with impatience. Wren tells her, "If you would like to have a respectable persona, I'm going to call you by your given name. 'CeCe' makes you sound like you're a schoolgirl in pigtails being chased around a playground."

CeCe ignores this and asks, "What the hell are they doing here? This isn't a museum; we aren't offering tours of the operation."

"I'm not sure how they got here," Wren says. "Melissa thinks you called them in."

CeCe huffs and sends a vicious look her way. "As if I'd be the one to put our entire identity on the line so these bitches could take a glance behind the curtain. Do you think I'm insane?"

"Of course I do," Melissa nods. "You wouldn't be here if you weren't!"

"Ladies, please," Wren dismisses each of them. "Not before I've had a drink. It's been a very long afternoon and I can only sense it's going to get longer."

CeCe wrenches her head back in Wren's direction. "We can't let them leave now knowing what they know."

Wren nods as if he's been waiting for her to catch on. "Precisely."

A light bulb clicks on, somewhere. CeCe's face flickers a moment before stepping forward in two long strides and snatching Emily and Aria by the arm. "Well come on in, girls, make yourselves at home. I'll give you the grand tour!"

Dumbfounded, they make no attempt to protest. Wren links an arm around Hanna and Spencer, both of them squirming, as Melissa threatens, "Get your hands off of my sister."

He does, but not by her request. Instead, he stalks over to her, braces her shoulders harshly and holds her firmly against the coat closet. His hold is strong and renders her unable to move, but she remains calm even as Spencer doesn't and shouts, "Stop it!"

"When I want your opinion, I will _beat_ it out of you," Wren tells Melissa, his face mere inches from hers. "You lost my respect the moment you told me whose side you're really on."

In one swift motion, Melissa's behind the closet door and Wren's locked her inside. He resumes his tight hold on Spencer and Hanna and leads them away. "Now, into the parlor, shall we?"

A chandelier on the ceiling dimly lights the room and there are four chairs CeCe's designated for each of the girls. This situation is certainly not going as any of the girls had expected. There aren't any weapons in sight and the girls aren't bound and gagged in the chairs; instead, Wren and CeCe each take an armchair before the girls and invite them to sit together, as equals. There's nothing in the room that signifies it's –A's lair; nothing like the things they'd found in the RV Mona had stashed her supplies in. It somehow makes this all the more harrowing; as frightening as Mona was, it was almost as if she'd been waiting to get caught, leaving her things out in the open as she had. But Wren… He's much more calculating. None of his materials are in plain sight. Wren's immaculate professionalism, his horrifying accuracy, makes Mona look like nothing but an amateur.

"Well ladies, I don't think I've ever rendered you speechless," Wren admits wryly. "Isn't this the part where you ask me all your burning questions?"

CeCe frowns. "That's not the part _I_ thought we were on."

"Cecelia," Wren states firmly, a warning. Then, much gentler, "Come on, then. Out with it."

Spencer's the only one who can find her voice. "How could you?"

"I love it when you're wrong, Spencer. It doesn't happen often, does it? It's like Christmas morning," Wren chuckles and then shakes his head, as though her question is beyond idiotic. "How could I. Come off it. I never did anything you didn't bounce back from."

Aria accuses, "You killed Ezra."

"You were done with him, anyway," Wren shrugs. "And I warned you, didn't I? I told you to back off, to make him go away. He knew it was me and he was going to tell you if I didn't shut him down."

"Was it you on the rooftop?" Aria then asks. "Second time's the charm?"

"Me on the rooftop? No," Wren negates. "That would be your buddy ol' pal Lucas, too much of a pantywaist to kill someone. He told me he got the job done and imagine my surprise when Ezra Fitz goes walking down the streets a few days later. It was me the second time because you know what? You want something done right, you've got to do it yourself."

"You're sick," Aria shakes her head, horrified. "You killed him for nothing."

"I killed him because he wouldn't _shut up_," Wren corrects. "If he had just backed off, left us alone, he'd still be walking today. But like I said, you're over it, now. I waited until you hated him _just enough_, see?"

"I won't be able to forget it," Aria disagrees. "I'm not as put together as I seem."

"Hear that?" CeCe calls to her, rubbing her index finger and thumb together tauntingly. "That's the world's smallest violin, playing just for you."

"You crashed a car through my house," Emily puts in, ignoring the sinister blonde. "You sent me human teeth. You've kidnapped me and tried to kill me many times… and you think that's not that bad?"

"Emily, my dear, Mona always said you were the weakest link, but personally, I don't see it," Wren smirks. "But I also don't subscribe to the notion that nice girls finish last. If you can't stand the heat, stay out of the kitchen."

"Stop talking to me in clichés," Emily demands. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I didn't drive the car into your house," Wren says. "That wasn't my idea or my doing."

All eyes fall upon CeCe and she smirks, too. "Flattering, but I'm not the only blonde bitch behind the wheel."

"Why are you working with Meredith?" Emily then asks. "She's insane."

"Well then, you've just answered your own question," Wren chuckles. "I've never kidnapped nor tried to murder you, Emily. I put out the orders, I send the texts, but I don't like to get my hands dirty. That's what I've got my minions for. Meredith comes in handy, you know. You can't be imprisoned if you're insane. If Meredith were to ever get caught- which, given her record, would be unlikely- she wouldn't serve a minute of that sentence. It would be off to the nuthouse for her and then what would I do? I'd send Mona to get her back out. It's a cycle, really; the circle of life."

"Fine, then explain why you needed to run Caleb's mom's car off the road. It nearly killed her!" Hanna exclaims. "Or maybe why you felt the need to play WWE Smackdown with me at prom!"

"Honey, that was me," CeCe fields this one. "I've wanted to snap your skinny little neck ever since I met you."

Hanna balks, "Why?"

"You're the worst of the bunch," CeCe informs her. "The moment we got there that night, I knew there was going to be trouble. I knew you bitches had a second agenda. You were the first one I saw- hiding in plain sight. You thought you were being secretive, you thought you were _so_ smart, but you were as dumb as ever. I was right, you know. You do snap like a twig."

Hanna clutches her cast tighter, protectively. "You broke my arm, you bitch."

CeCe leans a little closer, hissing, "I hope it _hurt_."

"Cecelia, we can play showdown later. Hanna asked a question, now, let's not be rude," Wren interrupts the two. "Running Caleb's mother off the road was a special treat of mine. I always love a good car chase and she simply couldn't keep up."

"But why?" Hanna insists. "What does she have to do with anything?"

"It was around the time you and Wren kissed," Spencer fills in. "You and Caleb broke up shortly after and Wren got his wish. You know how much he loves throwing a wrench in our relationships."

"Well, if you're going to be teases," Wren sneers. "You'll have to be taught a lesson, won't you?"

Silence follows his chilling statement and finally Wren addresses the final member of their quartet. "Nothing to ask, Spencer? No personal vendettas you want to release?"

"Nothing you say is going to change anything that happened," Spencer tells him honestly. "I don't care about the things you did to me, anymore. I just want answers, now."

Wren smirks. "Well dear, you'll have to wait just a little longer."

"Wait for it?" Spencer questions, knowing exactly which buttons to push. "Hmm. That sounds a lot like Alison."

There it is; that's all it takes. Wren's happy-go-lucky nature, his teasing tone and congenial smile are all pulled back like the layers of an onion. They go one at a time and by the time the girls reach the center, they see him for what he truly is inside. Eyes the color of fire glare back at them, his entire demeanor melting into one of anger, violence and revenge. Mona had told the girls earlier that day that this isn't a game and at first, with Wren's welcoming tone, his calm and relaxed stance, they had wondered if maybe it was. But there's no mistaking it now. Wren isn't here to answer the girls' questions and send them on their way. He's been caught in the act and he'll fess up, but he's not on his deathbed. They are.

"Alison," He hisses, just her name, and it sends shockwaves of ice throughout the room, instantly bringing the temperature down all around them.

"Where is she?" Emily asks, unafraid. "What did you do with her?"

"Oh honey, _he_ didn't do anything," CeCe answers easily. "Do you think this job was meant for an amateur?"

Wren shoots her an even icier glare than he had previously, but just then, there's a clatter and a bang from down the hall and CeCe shouts, "Eavesdropping _again_? Why don't you just show yourself, you twat?"

Slowly slinking into the scene, Meredith comes into the light, her voice hot and loud. "You _never_ let me in on the fun!"

"Your fun is your job," CeCe informs her. "You knew this going into it."

"I'm more than that," Meredith insists adamantly. "I can help you with other things. Let me wear the coat. Let me send a text!"

"They're here," CeCe deadpans. "If you don't shut that useless vortex you call a mouth, you'll be back making macaroni necklaces before you can blink."

Wren's too far gone in his own bitter world to tell CeCe to cool it, but Meredith no longer pays her any mind. She's noticed the company in their parlor and a flame ignites within her eyes. She chirps, "Girls! I'm so glad to see you again. I'm afraid we didn't part in the best of terms. Aria, how are you feeling? How's your dad?"

"I had that flu six months ago, so obviously I'm over it," Aria says tightly. "And my dad's better now that he's not with you."

"We should go to lunch sometime," Meredith tells her, as if the insult has just rolled off her back. "I'd love to catch up."

"We have nothing to catch up on."

Meredith laughs jovially, the only one having fun. CeCe asks sternly, "If you're out here, who's watching our little prisoner?"

"Oh I don't think we have to worry about her any longer," Meredith winks conspiratorially. "I'm not allowed a moment of recess?"

CeCe sighs in exasperation. "Go away, Meredith. This is a conversation for normal people, not those who get pleasure in strangling others or pushing them off buildings."

At the mention of this, Spencer's stomach churns and she feels her face flush hot and livid. Meredith shoots her an apologetic glance, saying, "It was an accident, you know. We were up there together and one moment she was arguing with me and the next, she was over the edge. I can still hear her skull cracking apart. When I close my eyes, I can see her brains on the pavement."

Spencer wants to vomit and Emily has to hold her back from charging at the blonde. CeCe orders, "_Meredith_. That's enough. Go away."

She obliges, but not without a childlike harrumph. A door slams down the hall as she disappears behind it and CeCe rolls her eyes. "She's got the mind of a killer and the behavior of a child. It's a wicked combination. I said we could've done without her, but-"

"Cecelia," Wren interrupts, snapping out of his cold reverie. "There's no one like her, trust me. She might not be fit for company, but I need her just as much as I need you."

This answer satisfies her, but Spencer notes, "He's got you on the hook."

CeCe's smile wanes. "What did you say?"

"He's baiting you," Spencer observes. "He doesn't really have any feelings whatsoever towards you, but he's keeping you along for the ride anyway. He's exploiting you for what he needs, giving you just enough to keep you interested, but he's never going to give you anything in return."

"And how do you know that?" CeCe probes, feigning nonchalance.

"Because I've seen it before," Spencer tells her. "With Alison."

Again, Wren's eyes darken and Emily pleads, "If you're not going to tell us anything, at least let us see her."

Wren laughs in that maniacal way they'd only seen in movies. His eyes are enflamed and disturbing when he says, "You want your answers? I'll get you your answers."

"That diagnosis wasn't going to stop me. My parents wouldn't _let_ it stop me," Wren tells them, sinking into the chair before them. "Plenty of people could lead normal lives with schizophrenia and I was to be one of them. But Oxford wasn't for me; medicine wasn't for me. I kept learning about all of these ailments and how people showing these symptoms needed to be helped; needed to be _fixed_. I was one of them. I didn't feel like I needed a fix. It's hard to sit in class and be told you're sick, you're messed up, you're different. I didn't like it. When I got my degree, I left England because in America, you were allowed to be free. I wanted to be me and not my disease."

"I moved to New Jersey. It's all I could afford," He goes on. "I roomed with a man named Darren and we become friends. He was training to be a cop, I was finishing my internship; we got along well."

"Darren Wilden?" Emily clarifies and Wren frowns.

"Catching on quickly, love," He deadpans. "We spent our summer, once, in Cape May to blow off some steam, which is where I met Cecelia and Alison."

"Wilden thought he was God's freaking gift to humanity," CeCe fills in. "He had his boat and his parents' money and expected me to fall at his feet because of it. I fall at _no_ man's feet and I paid the price."

Aria nods her understanding. "He drew his gun on you."

"Honey, that's not all he threatened me with," CeCe smirks. "You of all the girls should understand. When you're with a guy like that, it's his way or the highway. He doesn't care about your feelings; he doesn't care about your wants, needs, likes, dislikes, none of that. It's all about him."

"May I continue?" Wren asks and CeCe rolls her eyes.

"Yes, your majesty," She deadpans and cocks an eyebrow at the girls. "See what I mean?"

"Wait," Hanna pauses the conversation. "If you were with CeCe, Ali and Wilden that summer, that means… _You're_ Board Shorts?"

"It isn't the cleverest of monikers, is it?" Wren implores. "I was fascinated by her. I had picked up an extra job lifeguarding the beach and there she was, a tall gangly blonde in a striped bikini. She caught my attention immediately. We hit it off right away."

"You certainly have a type, don't you?" Spencer frowns. "Under aged, vulnerable, teenage girls?"

"She lied to me," Wren glares back. "It wasn't until after we were having intercourse that she let that little detail slip. And then she got pregnant- she _thought_ she got pregnant. She didn't want me to know, but I knew. I told her to be sure and then to rid herself of the evidence. And guess what she did instead?"

"Nothing," Hanna fills in. "She was never pregnant?"

"Wrong," Wren hisses. "She thought she was getting back at Darren for treating CeCe the way he had; she thought she'd use me to do it. She cried rape and said she feared for her life; that I was out to kill her. It was bullshit and I spent thirty-five days in police custody before she dropped charges. I lost my burgeoning shot at a medical license. She _ruined_ me."

"And what did _you_ have to do with this?" Emily asks CeCe, who sighs dramatically.

"I told her I could handle my own battles and she didn't need to fight them for me," CeCe informs them. "She was nothing more than a thorn in my side; that annoying little sister who just couldn't take a hint and leave me alone. I wanted her to just _go away_ and when she got me kicked out of school, well, that was just icing on the cake."

"And what about Melissa?" Spencer asks, both anticipating and dreading the answer. "Why was she there?"

"I didn't meet your sister then," Wren shrugs. "I didn't know she _was_ there."

"I don't know why she was," CeCe sighs. "No one invited her. She's a nosy little busybody who always has to know everyone's business. But she did warn me against striking up a friendship with that bitch, so even though it was already too late, I ironically have her to thank for some solid advice for once. Can't say I ever expected that."

"I wanted her dead," Wren says suddenly. "And that's all I could think of. Darren and I lost touch but I remember him mentioning Pennsylvania in one of our many conversations, so Rosewood is where I ended up. I'd kept in touch with Cecelia for that reason; to find out who Alison DiLaurentis was friends with in order to find my way in. You, Spencer, were the only one with an older sister and I did all I could to alter the odds so Melissa and I became something of an item."

"You knew who we were?" Spencer probes, disgusted. "You knew us before you even met us?"

"That's right," Wren grins. "Oh, don't be so angry, love. Your look of surprise matches your sister's, you know. Although, I think I like it better on you."

"So she knows," Spencer says. "Did you tell her before or after you were engaged?"

"Sweetheart, I think we both know the answer to that one," Wren smirks. "But you're getting ahead of yourself. I haven't even spoken about that night."

"You hit her," Aria states evenly and Wren shakes his head.

"I didn't," He disagrees. "I told you- I don't like to get my hands dirty. What I did was a little research instead. Darren had become a detective but he was about as reliable as a cop as Hannibal Lecter is a chef. I learned about this mysterious NAT club who made kiddie porn and when I'd tricked that dumb one- Garrett, I think his name was? – into selling me a copy, I learned I was holding Alison DiLaurentis in the palm of my hands. So I asked for more and they sent me more until it was piling up, video after video of each and every one of you doing mundane but important things. It was only step one, though. I needed to hatch a plan."

"And that's when I looked up the infamous DiLaurentis name," Wren goes on. "And what did I find? Jessica DiLaurentis, on the board at Radley Sanitarium, my future place of employment."

Spencer shakes her head. "If you were never able to get a real medical license-"

"Spencer, it isn't the license that's fake, it's the identification," Wren clarifies. "They're not going to let a rapist be a doctor, so my real name had to go. You've never stopped to think what kind of name Wren is? Oh, who am I kidding? Of course you haven't. Your name is usually reserved for boys."

She frowns and urges, "Go on."

"Wait, not yet," Hanna stops them. "Let me get this straight. You want to kill Ali to enact your freakish revenge, so you buy those videos of us to spy on us. Okay sure. But what do her mother and Radley have to do with this?"

"How else do you think I found Meredith?" Wren asks. "Jessica DiLaurentis is the one who authorized Meredith's quiet release following the death of that other patient. And the lawyer who kept everyone quiet was, drumroll please, Peter Hastings, my would-be father-in-law."

Spencer shakes her head; it still doesn't make sense. "But _why_? Why go through all that trouble to save Radley?"

"Ooh, ooh! Can I tell her?" CeCe raises her hand like a giddy schoolgirl and without waiting for Wren's approval, says, "Because, my dear, your deadbeat brother doesn't just have a _drug_ problem. He's got a _so-depressed-he-tried-to-kill-himself_ problem!"

Her heart beats a bit faster and she asks, "What?"

"It's true," CeCe nods. "Jason's whacked in the head and he needed Radley to fix it. Sound familiar?"

It's obvious CeCe means this as a personal dig, as an unimaginable insult, but Spencer doesn't take it that way. Instead, it only makes her brother all the more endearing to her. Tragic as it may be, she and Jason had always been something of the same person. Spencer spent years feeling as though she was second best, feeling as though she wasn't good enough in her parents' eyes, feeling as though she paled in comparison to her sister. Little did she know that her brother spent his entire life feeling the exact same way. They hadn't reacted the same; Spencer pushed herself to unhealthy limits to prove herself and Jason… well. Jason had just launched himself over the edge. Suddenly, everything is much clearer. Radley had saved not one of their lives, but both. It was evident why their parents would want to keep it around.

"The night she disappeared he was feeling particularly worthless," Wren remembers then. "Not to mention he was so high he couldn't spell his name and too drunk to stand upright. All I had to do was find him and slip the idea into his head. It was almost funny; he didn't even know what he was doing."

"Jason hit Ali," Emily says and then immediately shakes her head. "No, that's not true. He couldn't have."

"He did," CeCe confirms. "I watched it with my own two eyes. I didn't know Wren was behind it, of course, but it was funny to watch Mrs. D freak out."

"You used him to do your dirty work," Aria accuses, disgusted. "You took advantage of him!"

"You manipulated him," Spencer adds. "How _dare_ you!"

"Where is he now?" Hanna asks. "What did you do with him?"

Wren waves off the question, unimportant. "The point is, I saw Ali lying dead and I was happy. I moved on."

"I faked the body," CeCe grins in pride. "It wasn't until after, of course; that night, I was sure she was dead. But Ali had dozens of those stupid masks lying around so I got a replica of that stupid yellow shirt, the plaster bones and that mask and we were set. The money that old bag paid me covered everything. Bitch thought she was keeping me quiet about her burying her own daughter, but little did she know that she was actually endorsing me in the pursuit of her."

"You mean, her mother?" Emily corrects, horrified. "Where did you get the skull? And is that where the teeth came from?"

"Of course it is," Wren rolls his eyes. "I had unlimited access to the morgue, Emily. All I had to do was take my pick."

Hanna goes pale. "You're sick."

"No, I was _satisfied_," Wren says. "That is, until last year when I noticed Mona continuing to pick on each one of you before her own Radley stay. I sent Cecelia in to see her and she mentioned something rather interesting."

"She talked to me as though I were Ali," CeCe fills in. "And that's how we knew she was still out there, somewhere."

"I talked to Darren," Wren continues, his voice edgy and sharp. "He'd faked the autopsy and at first I didn't understand why he would do that for me if we were no longer friends. Turns out he, too, knew that Alison was still alive. Someone had tipped him off; _someone_ was trying to warn him about me. And he, in return, was making sure I never found out where Alison was, as though _I_ were more dangerous than him. Can you believe that?"

"Yes," Aria answers and Wren frowns.

"Well he had to go," Wren states simply. "And after seeing your reaction to his death, I decided that the best way to get to Alison was to kill each and every one of the people she'd seen the night she died. Once she realized the pattern, she would _have_ to come to me so as not to have the deaths of all these innocent people on her conscience. In fact, if you weren't here now, Byron Montgomery was next. Then Toby. I was saving you four for last."

Emily repeats, "You're _sick_."

"Maybe," Wren grins wickedly. "But it worked, didn't it? Because when I took you away, Emily, from prom, Alison couldn't stand the idea of something happening to you girls. And as much as she may fear me, as much as she wanted to get away, she didn't. She offered herself up in your place so you would not be harmed. And it was never really about you, anyway. You must have learned that, by now."

"People lie everyday, Wren," Hanna tells him, her voice shaking. "Are you going to kill them and everyone they know, too?"

"Lying is what got Alison where she is now," Wren nods. "She _ruined_ my life!"

"Self-pitying isn't a good look on you," Spencer tells him. "Haven't you ever heard that saying? 'Laugh and the whole world laughs with you. Weep and you weep alone'."

"Oh, tears will be shed," Wren promises. "But I won't be the one doing the weeping."

Aria asks, "What are you talking about?"

"_The last to go will see the first three go before her_," Wren quotes and the girls remember the hourglass sitting on Hanna's kitchen counter months earlier. "I have no preference, really, about the order we do this in. Any volunteers?"

"Eeny, meeny, miny, moe," CeCe singsongs from her chair. "Who will be the first to go?"

The girls reflexively inch closer to one another and Wren comments, "It's too bad you weren't here to watch your dear friend meet her maker. Cecelia, shall we reenact it?"

"No, stop, please!" CeCe suddenly writhes in feigned pain, mocking being tortured with a glint of humor in her eye. "I'll do anything you want! Anything! Don't do this! Don't!"

The girls are teary-eyed and fearful and Emily asks the question even though they're sure they know the answer. "You killed her?"

"Do you see her here?" Wren teases. "I don't see her jumping to your aid! Where's your precious Alison now, huh?"

"Stop!" Hanna pleads, her words broken.

"Stop, stop, stop!" Wren mimics, enjoying this too much. "You sound _just_ like her. And just like Alison, nothing you say is going to change a thing!"

"Why would you kill her?" Spencer beseeches. "Why?"

"Why? _Why?!_" Wren exclaims in outrage. "Because that little bitch destroyed everything I've ever had in the blink of an eye! She ruined lives left and right and didn't even bat an eye at it! She lied, she cheated and she lied some more and she got _everything_ she ever wanted from everyone because of it! People like that need to be _punished_; it was my natural right as a human being to right those incredible wrongs and I did! I did it in the best way because it was clean, it was polished, and it was executed flawlessly! And you know what the best part was? The best part of the whole thing?"

He awaits a reply, but the girls' terrified gazes don't offer him one. Instead he leans in close, as if taking them in as one, and spits, "_I got away with it!_"

Wren reaches beneath the armchair and produces a gun and the girls try not to allow their fortress to be penetrated. But as he loads and cocks the weapon, there is a sharp knock on the front door and the room falls silent. Wren and CeCe share an impatient look, likely wondering who else could possibly be interrupting their operation. Wren conceals the weapon haphazardly and unlocks all the deadbolts on the door before pulling it open, his eyes widening and jaw dropping in shock. For it's not a solicitor or a friendly neighbor or a Girl Scout selling cookies. It's Toby Cavanaugh and Caleb Rivers, the latter holding a camera, and behind the two, past the steps, an entire fleet of police cars. Lights flash red and blue and officers in midnight blue vests begin to flood the scene. Before Wren can even say a word, Caleb flashes a picture of the look of utter mortification on Wren's face, because yeah, this is one hell of a Kodak moment.

Toby holds up a monitor where they've been watching the whole exchange. "You _almost_ got away with it."

"Smile," Caleb says. "You're on candid camera."


	18. Eighteen

**Hello friends! Thank you for somehow managing to maneuver your way through the last chapter. I know it was really dense and there was a lot happening, but I'm glad you enjoyed my version of the truth. It was honestly both really satisfying and a huge bitch to write. I had to include so much in such a (semi) short amount of time. Anyway I'm so glad and so grateful for all your reviews. They give me life. No, for real.**

**So yeah on to the inevitable fall-out. There's only three chapters left, including this one. It's sad to see it come to an end, because I worked so hard on this! But it was totally worth it because of you guys. You've given me your attention and your incredible feedback and I could not be more thankful. Rest assured, this isn't the last you'll hear from me. That might be a good or a bad thing, depending on your feelings lol. Yeah. Okay. So enjoy and we'll see y'all for the next chapter. Have a great day!**

* * *

Eighteen

The look on Wren's face can only be described in one word- priceless.

His mouth opens and closes like a fish, struggling to comprehend the boys' presence. "How… When… Wha…?"

"It was simple, really," Toby explains. "Mona gave us the address. Once we got here, I made a quick sketch of the perimeter and drew a rough blueprint of the lower level."

"And me? I never leave home without my good old fashioned listening devices," Caleb adds, grinning. "I bugged the entire place."

"I can see you're dying to ask, so I'll save you the trouble," Toby says. "Yes, we heard _everything_."

Caleb ushers the police in, shouting, "Go get 'em, boys."

Wren is remanded into custody and the moment CeCe comes into view to investigate, they cuff her too. Their Miranda rights are read and both of them begin a slew of frustrated expletives directed at one another before they're lead from the house to one of the awaiting squad cars. Toby and Caleb remain just over the threshold and are pushed off to the side as other officers, guns drawn, burst into the room. They search the bowels of the main floor until they produce Meredith, kicking and screaming, and it takes all the strength in the world for Toby not to throttle her himself. He has to remind himself that she's in custody, now. She's going to prison and she's going to stay there for the rest of her life, wasting and rotting away like the scum of the Earth she is.

There's a harsh banging coming from the coat closet, but it's been locked and rigged shut, so the officers have to call in some reinforcements. They bring in what looks like a cannon without it's supportive base and swing it a few times into the frame of the door. Finally, the wooden contraption comes loose and the officers pull pieces away bit by bit until Melissa Hastings comes tumbling out, free at last. She squints in the glaring light, a little disoriented, and stumbles over the disarray on the floor before gaining her footing. She glances at Caleb and Toby and they stare back, their faces blank, still not sure if she's trustworthy. She doesn't take time to prove anything to them. An officer immediately wants her checked out by an ambulance and he leads her away from the scene.

And finally, as though ages and ages have gone by, as officers rush in and out, barking orders, Aria, Spencer, Hanna and Emily emerge at the mouth of the hallway, emotionally scarred but physically unharmed. Their hands are tightly clasped in one another's, an impenetrable force against their attacker, but as they notice the police and sense the lack of danger, they gradually loosen their hold. It feels as though the iron fist clenching their lungs for years has finally let go; they can breathe again. The elephant is no longer sitting upon their chest, the world is no longer weighing down their shoulders; after everything they've been through, together and apart, they are finally, _finally_, able to put this behind them. It's something they'd only dreamed of and never really thought the day would arrive.

But as relieved as they are, as beyond satisfied as they are to finally have a moment of peace, they are also left with the feeling of coming up short. They'd raced to find answers, they'd sped to get here, but in the end, all efforts were rendered futile. They'd been too late; they may have finally unmasked –A, but Alison had been lost in the process and this time, for good. Spencer, especially, feels incredibly guilty; from the beginning, she hadn't wanted to help Alison in the first place. She'd been content with the way things were and hadn't enjoyed the prospect of Alison reentering all their lives once more. Now, she wishes she'd felt differently. She wishes she'd put in just a bit more effort, just a bit more time, and even though she would have likely run herself ragged, maybe Alison would have made it as a result.

She glances at the girls, now, and can tell they're thinking the same thing. Emily sighs, her expression tragic, and says, "She's really gone, now."

Toby and Caleb approach, unsure of sure why their fiercely resilient girls aren't jumping for joy, and ask, "What's wrong? Everything went perfectly."

"It did," Spencer confirms, nodding sadly, and telling Toby, "You did _so_ well."

"So did you," He returns the compliment. "Another Spencer Hastings plan going off without a hitch."

"It was great," Caleb agrees, asking Hanna, "So why aren't we excited?"

Hanna frowns and confesses, "Because Alison's _really_ dead, this time. They killed her."

Before either of the guys can respond, an officer overhears this and asks, "Do you mean to tell me this is a murder investigation and not a missing persons?"

Hanna nods and then the scene erupts in pandemonium. The six teenagers are ushered from the scene and the house is immediately sectioned off in caution tape. Officers fly in and out on a constant loop, continuously searching every inch of the floor plan for any sign of Alison DiLaurentis. The girls are stuck in place, watching as though watching a car accident. They don't want to be here when her body is found, but they certainly can't bear _not_ to be, either. Unfortunately, it's not their choice to make. The officers split them up, push them into police cars and flee the scene. They're being brought to the station and their parents have been alerted, but none of this alarms them. Unfortunately, and it's not something most teenagers can say, this isn't the first time they'd been questioned by the police.

Philadelphia compared to Rosewood would be like comparing the Earth to a Ping-Pong ball. Thus, the police department is larger, more competent and much, much more serious. The four girls are sequestered from Caleb and Toby and led into a more private area where they would each wait their turn to be questioned. It's a routine that they are, at this point, quite familiar with. A kind-looking woman in horn-rimmed glasses and a messy bun offers each of them donuts and coffee, as it's well after a normal time for dinner, but the unsettled feeling in all their stomachs renders them without an appetite. Finally, a detective enters the room, surveys each and every one of them and picks Hanna first. She's irritated but the others are not surprised; she's the easiest one to break.

The detective leads her into a separate room and allows her to sit, closing the door. "Miss Marin, my name is Detective Ryan Underwood. How are you this evening?"

"I'm not going to lie, I could be better," Hanna replies. "Honestly, how do _you_ think I am?"

"I understand from my colleagues up in Rosewood that you and your friends have been dealing with this particular situation for quite some time now," Underwood replies instead, ignoring her sarcasm. "Would you mind walking me through your experience?"

Hanna purses her lips. "Where do I even start?"

Underwood shrugs. "At the beginning."

She hesitates; the beginning is the most logical place to start, after all, but it's also the most painful. How does she even begin to relay to this poor man everything that had happened that led them here? Her oceanic eyes survey the detective before her; he's in his mid to late twenties, probably new to the whole force. It might be his first big case, even. This entertains her greatly; what a case to start off on, after all. He certainly doesn't know what's coming to him. In all she had been through in the past three years, Hanna had never really had a chance to stop and think about where this all _truly_ began. She can't say she's leaping at the chance to do it now.

"I never had any friends, really," Hanna begins, as good a start as any. "No one really knew who I was. I was kind of invisible, which is hard to believe, because I was a _whale_ growing up. I mean, seriously. I was always a little chubby, but then when my dad cheated on my mom and left her to start a new family with a stuck-up bitch and her two-faced daughter, I just really ballooned. I had to spend summer after summer in fat camp that preached a message like 'love yourself' and 'you're only as good as your own self-impression'. It was awful. And I thought, each time, that maybe I would finally feel better about myself. Maybe I'd meet someone who knew how I felt and we could help each other get through it, you know?"

"Ali was like that," Hanna smiles a bit at the memory. "I met her in eighth grade. I wanted a second slice of pie one day in the cafeteria and Trevor Sanders made fun of how heavy I was and got the entire lunch line laughing at me. And Ali came to my rescue. She told him off and said I could have as many pieces as I wanted; who was he to tell me I couldn't? I was the last one she invited into her little clique. The other girls seemed just as out of place as I did, but it was the first time I really had someone I could call a friend, you know? Before, all anyone ever did was talk behind my back. They made fun of me a lot, but that stopped when I became friends with Ali. I think they were afraid to cross her; afraid of what she might do if they said something."

"She was in charge and she let us know every chance she got, but I didn't mind, really. I kept my mouth shut most of the time," Hanna continues. "She understood me and the struggles I was going through and most of the time, she helped me with them. She was there for me. But she could also be my worst enemy. She'd stab me in the back, judge me, make fun of me… She was the _worst. _But I still wanted her to like me. I wanted to feel like we were friends even though she didn't always act like one just because I knew that nothing was worse than being on the outside."

Underwood nods. "I understand. So when did the tormenting begin?"

"For Ali it was about a year before she disappeared," Hanna says. "For us, it was around the time of her funeral. It wasn't so bad at first, but it just got worse and worse as we went on."

"And you didn't know the identity of your attacker?"

"No," Hanna shakes her head. "He always signed his texts with one letter- -A."

Underwood wonders, "And what do you think –A stands for?"

"At first we thought it was –A for anonymous," Hanna answers. "It only made sense, since this person didn't want us to know who they were. But now, after hearing about Wren's obsession, I think it stands for Alison."

"For Alison?" Underwood's eyebrows rise. "The very person he was after in the first place?"

"Yeah," Hanna confirms. "It's almost as if he wanted us to think she was the one sending them."

Underwood appears amused. "Really? And did you?"

"At the beginning, before they found her body," Hanna says. "But a part of me always wondered, even after, if she was the one behind all of this. That maybe she was just crazy enough, just _sick_ enough, to turn on all of us. And actually, can I tell you something?"

"Please do. That's why we're here."

"There was a moment tonight when I thought we'd show up at the apartment," Hanna admits. "And it would be Ali behind the door, waiting just to see the looks on our faces."

"Interesting. And why would you expect something like that?"

"Because with Ali," Hanna sighs. "You just never know."

When Hanna is dismissed, Underwood beckons for Aria next and the petite brunette rises from the room the others are waiting in and follows him into seclusion. A passing glance is all she's able to share with Hanna before the door closes behind her and she's occupying the seat her friend once was. Her hands clasp on the table in front of her, her metallic emerald fingernail polish glinting under the florescent light as the detective resumes his position in his own designated chair. Aria's not quite sure what he is going to ask her that hasn't already been covered. After all, Alison's case is widely known and even more extensively researched; he certainly can't be fishing for that much more.

"Miss Montgomery," Underwood smiles politely. "Would you mind if I asked you a personal question?"

Aria hesitates but nods slowly. "I guess so. Sure."

"If you and your friends, including Miss DiLaurentis, were being followed," Underwood begins. "As well as being sent threatening text messages, emails and other forms of communication, why didn't you go to the police?"

"Did you know that you're the first one ever to ask us that?" Aria probes wryly.

His eyebrows rise. "Am I really?"

"No," She smirks. "We asked ourselves that all the time. Whenever –A threatened our lives or hurt the people we love, which happened too often to count, we always asked ourselves if lying was the best possible option. We always wondered if we and everyone else would be better off if we just told the truth. If we went to the police and told them everything that we've ever done, everything we know, everything that was happening to us, then maybe it would all stop. Maybe we could finally have some peace, some protection. Maybe it would be over."

Underwood sits back in his chair and observes, "But you didn't."

"No we didn't. For two reasons," Aria explains. "One- every time we got the police involved, which wasn't very often, but often enough, it made things even worse for whoever was involved. We thought we were doing the right thing and we ended up screwing things up even further. And two- there were people on the inside, people in that police department or connected to it that wanted to see us burn. We didn't tell the police because we _couldn't_. We never trusted them; we still don't. We can't, not really, because they were supposed to protect us and in the end, they were the ones hurting us."

"That's a very serious accusation, Miss Montgomery," Underwood states. "Are you positive?"

"Yes," She remains firm. "We have proof."

"Enough proof to help with an investigation of the entirety of Rosewood P.D.?"

Aria shrugs. "Sure, if that's what it takes."

Underwood scribbles a note onto his yellow legal pad before asking, "How would you classify the nature of the attacks this '-A' inflicted upon you? Would you be willing to detail some?"

Aria glances downward, guiltily. "I wasn't –A's biggest target."

"What do you mean?"

"The others- Hanna, Spencer, Emily, even Alison," Aria clarifies. "They got it way worse than I ever did."

Underwood frowns and wonders, "And that makes you feel guilty somehow?"

"Well, yeah," Aria says as though it's obvious. "It's hard to know what they're going through when I don't have to deal with it myself. Hanna was run down by a car, Spencer was institutionalized, Emily and Alison were almost _killed_… and I wasn't."

"I have it in my record that you were once encased with a corpse," Underwood disagrees. "Someone you claim to have known."

Aria bites her lip. "Yeah, that's true. I guess… I guess that's the worst thing he's ever done to me."

Underwood chuckles, shaking his head. "That's nothing to bat an eye at!"

"I know," Aria remains feeling culpable. "I guess I should feel relieved, right? I should count my blessings or realize how lucky I am and I do. But I just feel bad, you know? And I don't think that's ever going to change. It's like- what's that called, when there's a tragedy and some people die and some don't and the ones who don't feel like they should have?"

"Survivor's guilt?" Underwood suggests and Aria nods.

"Yeah, survivor's guilt," Aria agrees. "I feel like I have that."

"Miss Montgomery," Underwood corrects. "Your friends aren't dead."

"For a while," Aria says. "It didn't look like it was going to end that way."

When Aria is returned to her friends, Detective Underwood beckons for Emily next. She's much more subdued than the girls before her had been and it's as if the detective can sense this as the two sit in front of one another. Exhaustion pours from Emily's face and, after a beat, she can tell there is a sense of pity emanating from the detective's. She doesn't want his pity. She doesn't want anyone's sympathy at all. All she wants is to go home. She has been dealing with this for far too long and she's spent more time in a police department than she ever wanted or needed to. It's quick, simple and to the point- she's done.

"Miss Fields," Underwood says. "I'm going to ask you a few questions about this evening."

Emily nods. "I'll try to answer what I can."

"How did you come into knowledge of the address?" Underwood wants to know. "How long have you known about the lair?"

"Only since this afternoon," Emily tells him. "A friend of ours gave us the address."

Underwood frowns. "You'll have to be more specific than that."

"Will she get into trouble?"

"_Should_ she?"

"Her name's Mona Vanderwall," Emily admits uneasily. "She told us where to find Wren."

"Vanderwall?" Underwood asks. "The original perpetrator?"

"Yes," Emily confirms. "She's still connected. And she would kill me if she knew I ratted her out."

"Miss Fields, I assure you, she'll never know," Underwood promises. "When you arrived on the scene, what happened?"

"Melissa Hastings opened the door," Emily explains. "We thought she was the one after us."

"Is she involved with Wren?"

"I don't think so," Emily shakes her head. "Anyway, she told us to get out of there. She said we weren't safe and we couldn't let him hear us, but we didn't know who she was talking about. Wren came down the stairs and he and CeCe led us into the living room. They explained everything and when they were done, they said they killed Alison. Wren had a gun; he was going to kill us, too. But then… Well, you guys showed up."

"And we do have the tape you helpfully provided which we can use for evidence," Underwood nods. "Whose idea was that?"

"Spencer's," Emily answers, smiling a bit. "The whole plan was her idea."

"But they did not assault you?" Underwood probes and Emily shakes her head. "And how many people were in the home when you got there?"

"Well, Melissa, Wren, CeCe and Meredith," Emily lists and then glances at her lap. "And Alison."

The detective releases her and when the door opens a final time, Spencer knows it's her turn. But she doesn't have the strength to continue. Battered, bruised and broken, Spencer Hastings has had more than enough. The detective nods his head towards the room and Spencer sighs in irritation, rising from the plastic chair she'd been sitting in and following him inside. There is nothing more she wants to do than put this behind her and yet, she's once again beckoned into police questioning. Underwood sits first and Spencer eyes him a bit before sinking reluctantly into her own chair. He looks nice enough, he seems like he knows what he's doing, but she's still under his chokehold. Spencer wonders if she will ever see a day when a police force isn't squeezing the life out of her and her friends.

"Alright Miss Hastings," Underwood addresses her. "I'm going to make this quick."

"Good," Spencer retorts. "You'll have to. I don't have legal representation."

Underwood stares at her a moment before cracking a smile. "So you were raised by lawyers, huh?"

Spencer's mouth twists. "How can you tell?"

"So was I," Underwood winks. "There's a certain air about us."

"Does it ever go away?"

"I'll let you know if I ever shed mine," Underwood says and then turns serious. "Can you tell me how you came into the understanding that there is more than one member on this –A Team?"

"It wasn't hard," Spencer shrugs. "-A couldn't be in two places at once and some of the things that happened just didn't add up."

"Before this evening, did you know the identities of anyone on the team?"

"Yes," Spencer says slowly. "We knew a few of them, but we didn't know who was in charge."

"Which would be Mr. Kingston, as you found this evening?" Underwood asks and Spencer nods. "And who else did you discover was part of the team, aside from the obvious- the ones you found tonight?"

"Well…" Spencer hesitates. "What happens to them if I tell?"

"I think you and I both know the answer to that one," Underwood informs her. "Mr. Kingston is easily facing many charges, as the mastermind, but his minions are not exactly out of the water."

Spencer nods, saying, "Aiding and abetting."

"Precisely," Underwood agrees. "Are you going to release the names you know or aren't you?"

"It isn't that simple," Spencer shakes her head. "Some people joined the team because they had to. Some didn't want to be a part of the team at all. Some _still_ don't. I can't have them imprisoned just because they made a mistake."

Underwood sighs. "We might find out anyway."

Spencer nods, her expression tight. "I'm tired of keeping secrets. But this one isn't mine to share."

When the girls are finally released, there's pandemonium in the department and the girls are blinded by the activity. Officers are rushing about, keeping the press at bay, filing requests and forms and the girls are not sure what to do. Technically, they're free to go, now, but not one of them makes a move. A shout of one of their names is heard, the girls are too distracted to tell which one, and when they are able to see above the crowd, their families are waiting for them, forever the last to know. Secluded in little pockets, their families are calling them, waving them over, and the girls are drawn to them instinctively, unable to do anything but accept their comforting words and death grip hugs.

Byron and Ella have reunited to be there for their daughter, each of them wrapping an arm around Aria and an arm around Mike, as if trying to remind themselves that each member of their family is still accounted for. Ashley Marin is in a fit of hysterical tears, rambling on and on about how worried she's been, how she didn't know, how she _wished _Hanna could've just told her what was going on before attacking her daughter with a bone-crushing hug, Caleb standing idly by beside them. Wayne and Pam are whispering furiously to one another and to Emily, likely playing twenty questions in an effort to better understand the situation. Veronica collects her daughter and folds her into a tight embrace as though she were young again, shielding her from outside forces with her mama bear claws flexed expertly. Peter drops a kiss to her crown, expresses his gratitude that she's all right, and is next in line for a hug.

When Spencer's had her fill, her eyes search frantically for another familiar face, but they don't have to look too far. She pulls away from her father after a moment and crosses the floor in two strides to collapse into Toby's arms instead. She's wanted to do so ever since he appeared on scene hours ago, but the delay in gratification has only enticed her. He whispers, "It's over now. It's really over."

"Thank you," She says instead. "Toby, seriously, thank you."

He rubs her back a little, asking, "For what?"

"For everything," Spencer murmurs into his shoulder. "For coming with us. For sketching the floor plan so we could rig the house. For following me here. For always, _always_ being there for me. And for putting up with everything that dating me entails. You've put up with so much and you still stuck by me… I really don't think you know how much that means to me."

"No, trust me, I do," He disagrees. "I feel the same way."

She pulls away from their embrace, overcome with emotion, so he asks, "How are you doing? Are you alright?"

"Yeah," She confirms. "I'm tired. I just want to go home."

"I bet," Toby comments. "I'm sure your parents are just as eager to get you home."

"I can't believe it was Wren," Spencer frowns. "I should've seen it. I should've realized it sooner."

"How could you have?" Toby implores. "No one saw that coming. I mean of all the people we suspected, he wasn't even on the radar."

"I know," Spencer agrees. "But there had to have been a clue somewhere. There had to have been something I missed."

"I don't think there was," Toby insists. "You can't do that. You'll drive yourself crazy. You have to just let it go. It's finally over now and we can all move on."

Spencer frowns. "Not all of us."

When Toby glances at her questioningly, she elaborates. "We might have figured out who –A was, but it was too late. Ultimately, he still got what he wanted. Alison's dead. We weren't quick enough."

"Spencer, you did what you could," Toby tells her. "You did everything you could do. It's not your fault Alison's dead."

"I could've…" Spencer starts, but it falls short. "I might've been able to…"

"No," Toby disagrees, his head shaking. "No, there was nothing you could've done."

And just as this truth sinks in, another familiar face appears in the distance. Spencer gasps, "Oh my god, it's Jason."

Toby's eyes widen and he glances over his shoulder. "What? How?"

That's exactly what Spencer intends to find out. Giving Toby's hands one last squeeze, Spencer crosses the room and approaches the officers surrounding Jason DiLaurentis, who looks gruff and underfed, but not exactly in grave danger. An officer stops Spencer from gaining any closer by saying, "Excuse me, miss. You'll have to back away. I can't allow you to come any further."

"No, it's okay," Jason speaks up, his voice gravelly. "She's my sister."

The officers step aside and Spencer sits before him, a touch wary. "Jason… Where have you been?"

"Hell," Jason answers candidly, sipping from the steaming mug of coffee an officer has just brought him. "If I had one word to describe it."

"I went by your place a few weeks ago," Spencer explains. "It seemed like you'd left in a hurry."

"It wasn't by choice," Jason maintains. "One minute I'm finishing breakfast, the next I'm knocked out cold and waking up in a dirty basement."

Her eyes widen. "You were in that house too?"

"I had just learned my sister was still alive and was getting closer and closer to learning what _really_ happened that night," Jason tells her. "Apparently, that meant I was a threat."

"So he tortured you," Spencer fills in and when Jason's only response is to grimace, she goes on, "Where were you, really, if you weren't in rehab?"

"You're just full of questions, aren't you?" Jason smirks wryly. "I was out of town."

Spencer purses her lips. "That's all I'm going to get, huh?"

"That's all you need to know."

"Jason," She begins gently. "I know about Radley. How you were a patient there and… how your parents tried to cover it up."

Jason freezes. "You do?"

"I do," Spencer nods. "And believe me, I know how you felt. I'm just sorry you thought that… that was the only way out."

"Don't sweat it. It was years ago," Jason waves it off. "But what did you say a while back? That we're wired the same? Pretty much sums it up."

Spencer agrees silently and Jason glances down at his cup. "I'm guessing you also heard about my involvement that night, huh?"

"Yeah," Spencer says quietly. "I did."

"I can't believe I could be physically capable of that," Jason laments. "She's my sister and she's a pain in the ass, but I still love her, you know? She made my life a living hell, but I'd never want her to… I'd never…"

"I know," Spencer assures him. "Jason, no one thinks you did it in malice. You were intoxicated and manipulated into doing it. It's not like you-"

"Spencer," Jason interrupts her. "I still did it. I spent three years wondering if I had something to do with her disappearance, with her death, and after I was told I didn't, I had my worst fears confirmed."

"You didn't kill her," Spencer remains firm. "You're not a bad person, Jason. She wasn't dead."

"Maybe not," Jason sighs. "But she is, now."

Spencer leans back in her chair, defeated, because guilt is certainly an emotion she can get behind. She's spent the better part of this year feeling it, after all. The officers tell her that her time is up, they must continue their questioning, and thus, Spencer must leave him alone. Before she does, she engulfs him in a hug that takes mere moments for him to return. She must let him know that he's not alone in this, that there's _always_ someone on his side. He gives her a wary smile as she rises to her feet and comes into the company of Hanna, Emily and Aria, three equally broken parts of their fragile quartet, in order to relay their conversation. However, this never comes to be; a door shuts at the end of the hall and there's a bit of shouting before silence falls upon the department. The girls, still solemn, do not look up at first, but when they do, they catch a glimpse of a circle of police officers, surrounding someone as though they were Secret Service agents protecting the President of the United States. They part slowly, one by one, and nothing in the world could possibly make the girls mistake that flash of silky blonde curls.

Shaken up but alive, Alison DiLaurentis glances at each and every one of the girls before asking calmly, "Did you miss me?"


	19. Nineteen

**Hello friends! I'm laughing so hard at your reaction to Alison still being alive; who knew it would anger so many people? Just kidding, I knew, and I'm evil. But that's the mark of a semi-decent author, right, when they make you feel something? I don't know, that's why my workshop leaders always used to say (and then they'd be like, "Not that any of you are semi-decent. Adequate is more like it." They're good at keeping your ego to a minimum lol). So yeah. I still greatly appreciated your reviews. They were awesome!**

**So here we are with the penultimate chapter. I can't believe we're here already, to be honest. I've been working on this for a while and it feels like I've been posting forever. It's almost July for God's sake. But you've all stuck with me and I love you all for it. I hope that this has been half as fun for you to read as it has been for me to write. If it was, then hey, I did my job. My work here is done. :)**

* * *

Nineteen

Peace- it's a concept Spencer Hastings can't quite grasp, not after years upon years of being teased and taunted and threatened endlessly. She says absolutely nothing to Alison; there's nothing to be said (The others ask one simple question- _how?_ and Alison replies, in that cocky tone she's known for, "It's going to take a bit more than that to bring me down. I've gotten really good at hiding, after all."). Each of the girls take a turn embracing her and on Spencer's, Alison shoots her a look, as if she's being ridiculous for hesitating, and pulls her into a hug. The air will most likely never clear out between them; there will forever be a sort of tension, the past never truly melting away. But their reconciliation is necessary if either of them wanted to move on. In this one swift action, Alison is issuing both an apology and a sort of forgiveness; Spencer hugs back just as tightly and gives her just the same.

Jason and Alison have an uneasy reunion moments later and when their father arrives on the scene, it only serves as more of a dramatic reunification. He's loud and boisterous and he's always been a bit intimidating to the rest of the girls. Pandemonium in the police department serves as a well enough job to dim his own outbursts, though; officers and detectives alike are trying to do everything they can to secure the evidence, fill the charges against the perpetrators and do what they can to keep the publicity to a minimum. The girls are old news, now; there's a new story every minute, after all. One by one, they begin to filter out of the office, out of the building, out of the police department's protective grasp. It's late; they've had enough. They're going home.

The drive back to Rosewood is silent. Peter's behind the wheel, Veronica's navigating from the passenger seat and Spencer's in the back, feeling like a child who's just been picked up from a play date that had gone on far too long. Melissa does not accompany them home; she's brought her own transportation, after all. Thus, the drive is in silence; the only thing that can be heard is the steady stream of air conditioning pouring from the vents, because it might be early May, but the humidity is already rising and pushing temperatures higher and higher. Spencer leans against the cool glass of the window and watches as the lanes of traffic blur before her, the moon the only natural light in an artificial world of harsh reds, yellows and greens. Her parents don't ask her any questions and part of her is glad; she's been through enough questioning to last her a lifetime. She's sure they're trying to make sense of it in their own way, anyway.

It's after eleven by the time they pull into their driveway back in Rosewood. _Home sweet home_, Spencer thinks bitterly, because this is where it all began, isn't it? She wonders if there will ever be a time when Rosewood will bring back good memories instead of bad, when she'll be able to think of anything other than the pain this town has caused her, when- or _if_- she'll ever be able to feel safe again in her own home. Unbuckling her seatbelt, she watches as her father comes around the car to open the door for her and balks when her mother holds the house door open and ushers her inside first, as if she's some sort of celebrity or VIP. She isn't used to this treatment and she really doesn't care for it. The house is dark and when she kicks off her shoes, her mother turns on all the lights as though Spencer's been bathed in darkness too long. She might have been, but that doesn't mean she's ready to come into the light just yet.

"Why don't you go take a shower and get into something more comfortable?" Veronica suggests. "I'll get you an ice pack to rest that hip and we'll make popcorn or hot cocoa or something. Sound good?"

"No, I'm okay," Spencer tells her instead. "I'm tired. I just want to go to bed."

"What about a movie?" Peter suggests. "How about you pick something to rent off pay-per-view, anything you want? What do you say, champ?"

Again, Spencer dissents. "I have school tomorrow."

"What's one day?" Peter shrugs. "It's not going to make a difference on your grades."

"Come on, honey," Veronica coaxes. "Sit down. Talk to us."

"Later," Spencer finds herself telling them. "I really do need to go to sleep."

She's halfway up the stairs, struggling just a tad, when Veronica asks, quietly, "Why didn't you tell us?"

Spencer half-turns, glancing at the lost and confused expressions her parents are wearing, and sighs. "I couldn't tell you."

"Why not?" Veronica insists. "You were going through _so much_… Is that why you relapsed?"

Peter hesitates before wondering, "Is that what sent you to Radley?"

"Yes," Spencer confirms. "It just became too much after a while."

Veronica shakes her head, unable to comprehend the hell her daughter has been through. "And you had no one. You had no one to talk to."

"That's not true," Spencer disagrees. "I had Hanna. Aria, Caleb, Emily. And Toby. We got each other through it."

Peter comments, "Relying so much on your friends… That's almost unhealthy."

"What else was I supposed to do, dad?" Spencer asks helplessly. "I didn't have any other choice."

He frowns. "No. I guess you didn't."

Spencer allows this to be their parting line, continuing the rest of the way up the stairs and leaving her parents behind. Their absenteeism is completely on them; Spencer's sure they're both lost in their own guilt and lack of understanding simply because of it. If they had been around more often, if they had taken a personal interest in Spencer's mental anguish, perhaps they wouldn't be left in the dark, lost, disoriented and confused as they are now. Part of it is her own doing, Spencer knows; she had been completely reserved, completely closed off and unwilling to let her parents in. But mostly, it's on them; there were times this past year when Spencer was so fragile, aching with the desire to let loose, that all her parents had needed to do was ask. She would have exploded with answers, would have emptied her muddled mind and tortured conscience. She would have, but she didn't, because they didn't ask.

She wants to lose herself under the comforting waterfall emanating from the showerhead, but she cannot, because even something so innocent, so _necessary_, had been ruined by –A. She can't take a shower here without thinking of that time she'd almost died taking a simple steam. Spencer realizes, then, that she still doesn't know who'd locked her in there that night, but she doesn't want to find out anymore. She's afraid of the answer and sure that there are some things she's just better off not knowing. When she's finished, she towels dry, combs through her mane of wet tangled hair and slips into a pair of athletic shorts and the coziest t-shirt of Toby's she now owns. It's that long-sleeved blue one, the first she'd ever stolen, and it's wearing thin and no longer smells like him, but it provides her the utmost comfort. She saves this one for special occasions; it's what she uses when she can't fall asleep, because his ability to soothe her must be woven into the fabric. Spencer can sense tonight won't be the easiest for her and thus, this is the shirt she chooses. It's time to bring out the big guns, after all.

When she enters her bedroom, however, she stops short. Melissa is sitting on her bed, white flag waving, and says, "I didn't get a chance to explain, earlier. I'd like to do so now."

"Explain what?" Spencer crosses her arms in self-defense. "How you were just magically behind the door of –A's lair or how you knew all along who it was and failed to tell me?"

"Both," Melissa tells her. "Please just listen."

Spencer crosses the room and sits upon her red chaise, too tired to argue. "Go for it."

"I know you've heard this before," Melissa says. "But it's not what you think."

"I have heard that before," Spencer confirms. "From you, mostly."

"I know," Melissa insists. "And I'm sorry. But you have to know that I only lied to protect you."

"You've been saying that since the beginning," Spencer replies. "But yet you've never really proved it."

Melissa purses her lips. "Big deal; I _lied_. How is that any different from what you've been doing for three years?"

"Because when I say I'm protecting someone," Spencer tells her honestly. "I actually mean it."

"You think I don't?"

"Do you?" Spencer implores. "You hate me, don't you? Why would you feel the need to protect someone you hate?"

"You're my sister," Melissa states, a reason Spencer's used many times before. "How could I hate you?"

"Believe me," Spencer smirks. "Those two things aren't mutually exclusive."

Her sister frowns. "I guess you're right."

This prompts the question, "How long have you known?"

"Not forever, if that's what you're wondering," Melissa tells her. "I didn't know while we were dating or when we got engaged. I didn't even know after, when he started seeing you."

"We never 'saw' each other," Spencer corrects and then adds, "I didn't ask when you didn't know. I asked how long you _did._"

"When Mona went to Radley," Melissa says tightly. "That's when I found out."

"How?"

"He came back, out of nowhere," Melissa explains. "He evaluated Mona and stuck close to her specifically. I followed him. I watched him very closely. I watched how he seemed much too interested in Mona's case and I watched him take notes, make whispered phone calls and stay far too late into the night. I realized he doesn't have any friends his own age; why else would he possibly be hanging out with teenage girls all the time? What other reason for that could there be? When I saw him with CeCe Drake about a week later, I put two and two together. Those two were a disaster together and they always had been. They didn't get along; they didn't agree on _anything_, except for the fact that they both vehemently hated someone. It wasn't long before I learned that someone was Alison."

"But he knew," Spencer points out. "He knew you knew who he was. How come you weren't taken prisoner earlier? Or…"

"Or what? Or killed?" Melissa fills in. "Because I'm not like Wilden. I'm not _stupid_. I know how to keep my mouth shut and I know how to play both sides."

It's then that Spencer understands. She states, "You were a double agent."

"Bingo," Melissa says. "The moment Wren approached me, all my suspicions were confirmed. He had just started to suspect that Alison was still alive and he told me he needed someone with my intellect to help him find her. He tried to coax me into joining by playing into my hatred of Alison as well. He wanted her dead and he thought _I_ wanted her dead, too. I didn't; I still don't. I don't hate _anyone_ that much. But I knew what he was doing to you and your friends and I thought that if I got enough information from him, if I got enough evidence, maybe I could stop him from ever hurting anyone. Maybe I could put an end to this whole thing."

"So I was right," Spencer says. "You _were_ on the –A Team."

"No, I wasn't," Melissa insists. "I never was. I kept him on the hook, told him I'd think about it, that I'd consider working for him, and because he trusted me, he let me know all about his little operation. It's how I got on the train and stopped Wilden from killing Aria. It's how I knew that he and CeCe were planning on setting the lodge on fire and killing all four of you. Whenever he asked me for anything in return, I gave him false leads and blamed my faulty information on Lucas or Mona, always switching it up so he wouldn't get suspicious."

"So you were a spy," Spencer notes and when Melissa nods, she goes on, "Then explain the Black Swan or why you're the Black Widow. It still doesn't make sense."

"That was my cover," Melissa rolls her eyes. "When you guys figured out it was me in that Swan costume, I had to figure out a new one. You always thought the Black Widow was involved with the –A Team, but you never considered that maybe she- maybe _I_- was on your side. Wren didn't know about the Black Widow. It was the only way I could sneak around and make sure you guys were okay without him knowing. It drove him crazy."

"So that day, in your room," Spencer clarifies. "When you just left it on your bed. You _wanted_ me to find it?"

"I didn't leave it there," Melissa's eyes darken. "Eventually, he figured me out. That was CeCe's way of telling me the jig was up. And from then on, everything she did was an effort to try and make me look guilty, make me look like the bad guy. She threw everything I've ever done in your faces, she accused me of hitting Alison, because she wanted you to truly believe it was me. Did you?"

Spencer glances away. "Maybe."

"I'm not surprised," Melisa shrugs. "But it ended up working to my advantage. CeCe made me look guilty, I made her look even guiltier. That's also when I found out who was responsible for the string of murders. I thought if I could only make you guys see that, if I could give you a bit of a clue, maybe you could figure it out for yourselves. I mean you were hitting a wall in terms of answers, anyway, so…"

"You," Spencer accuses, unable to believe it to be true. "_You_ sent Toby that text about Meredith?"

"Sorry I called him baby," Melissa smirks regretfully. "I was trying to sound as –A as possible."

Spencer shakes her head. "There's no way. How did you even do that?"

"Never leave me alone in –A's lair," Melissa warns. "I saw things I wish I hadn't. Wren was done with him, had decided he wasn't worth his time anymore, and so I thought… I thought I'd help out a bit. But it kind of backfired. He went after Jessica instead of Meredith and then you talked him off the cliff and… Well, nothing really came out of it."

"You're telling me," Spencer deadpans. "That if we'd pursued Meredith back then, none of this would've happened?"

"It would've been over by now," Melissa nods. "But that's not what happened."

"Of course it isn't," Spencer frowns, growing angry. "You told me it was my fault for making Toby crazy. You told me we'd be fine; you pointed me in _CeCe's_ direction! You never told me we should be looking for Meredith!"

"I know," Melissa sighs. "It was a momentary lapse in judgment."

"That's not good enough," Spencer shakes her head. "You could've helped us. You could've done something. You could've told me the _truth_. But you didn't. You knew for over a year and you didn't do anything."

"I couldn't," Melissa insists. "I had to lie to you. I had to _protect_ you! I'm the older sister; that's my job!"

"There had to have been a better way," Spencer replies. "You lied to me for years because… Because you thought I couldn't handle it. You thought that making me think you were a killer, or sneaking around to funerals undercover, or enacting this elaborate plan to confuse me was better than telling the truth? You could've just went to the police with what you knew and stopped it from happening!"

"Not with Wren watching my every move lately, I couldn't," Melissa disagrees. "Trust me, you were better off in the dark."

"Was I?" Spencer asks incredulously. "I don't trust you. I _can't_ trust you. Everything you've ever said was a lie… I don't think I'll be able to trust you ever again."

"Spencer, stop being so dramatic," Melissa rolls her eyes. "Your drama queen act isn't going to make people sympathize with you. It's going to make them pity you."

"I don't want their pity and I don't want yours, either," Spencer remains firm. "You don't know me at all, Melissa. I can handle much more than you think I can."

"Can you? Really?" Melissa asks sarcastically. "Then how come earlier this year I got a call from a sanitarium saying you'd been committed?"

Spencer draws backward as though she's been slapped. "That was different."

"Was it?" Melissa implores. "I don't think so. It seems exactly the same to me."

"Well, then I guess that's the difference between you and me," Spencer tells her. "My stay in Radley has made me a lot slower to judge people's emotional capacities."

"Isn't that convenient? It only took time in a mental institution for you to realize that." Melissa frowns. "That's exactly why I didn't tell you; I didn't want to send you back there."

It's like a knife to the gut. Still, Spencer insists, "It isn't up to you to save me, Melissa, no matter what you think."

"Right," Melissa nods. "Because you did such a great job of saving yourself."

She stands and makes her way to the doorway, pausing in regret to turn back and say, "I'm sorry. I should've told you the truth."

"You should've told _someone_ the truth," Spencer mutters, not daring to look at her. "For some reason, you have a vendetta against me but you could've told someone else."

"I don't have anything against you," Melissa disagrees. "You're my sister, Spencer, and I love you no matter what you think."

Spencer stares at her, her hardened gaze unflinching. "You have a very strange way of showing it."

"Look, I don't expect you to thank me. I don't even expect you to forgive me," Melissa adds. "But you once asked me who I would save if I was forced to choose between you and someone I loved. I didn't make the right choice last time, Spencer, and I wasn't going to do it again."

Spencer nods slowly as Melissa asks, "If you had to choose between saving my life and saving Toby, who would you choose?"

A moment passes in tense silence before Spencer replies quietly, "I don't know."

"Yeah," Melissa says, expecting that answer. "It's not that easy of a question, is it?"

She bids her sister goodnight and Spencer watches her go, knowing all too well that Melissa never asks a question she doesn't already know the answer to.

* * *

It's two o'clock in the morning and Spencer Hastings cannot sleep. There is far too much weighing down every corner of her brain, not to mention that every howl of the wind, every creak her old house makes, every scratch of a branch against her window makes her heart palpitate and her breathing quicken, thinking someone is after her again. She might be safe now; in fact, she is. She might be able to finally sleep soundly; in fact, she can. But there is just far too much her mind is occupied with to turn it off and prepare for sleep. So she doesn't and instead, she lies awake and watches the glaring red numbers on her alarm clock judge her soundlessly.

She's angry. It's just after two when she realizes how irascibly angry she is with her family. She's sick of being the rebellious teen, the one who causes all the trouble in their home, the one her parents and sister have to explain away. She's angry with her father for being obstinate and pigheaded, for keeping her in the dark, especially in matters that concerned her. She's angry with her mother for trying to sweep everything under the rug, for showing no emotions, for giving all of these irritating qualities to both her daughters. She's angry with Melissa, _mind-numbingly angry_ with her, because it isn't her place to be Spencer's protector and she'd kept information from her that is, in her rage, unforgiveable. She's angry with Wren, with CeCe and with Meredith; she's angry with Rosewood and with everyone in it, guilty by association.

At two-thirty, Spencer snatches her cell phone from her bedside table and texts one of the only people she _isn't_ angry with- _Are you still awake?_

In minutes, she receives a reply- _I am now. What's up?_

She calls and he answers instantly, his voice thick with sleep, but alert nonetheless. "_What's wrong?_"

"I'm running away," Spencer tells him as a reply. "Can you meet me at the hill?"

"_Be there in ten_."

Somehow, she manages to escape her house without waking any of its sleeping residents. She isn't sure how, but she knows that even if they had awoken, nothing in the world could have made her stay. Driving through Rosewood now is much more different than during the day. There aren't any happy pedestrians, children playing, teens riding their bikes. There isn't any activity at all and it's mostly because of the hour, but also because of the unparalleled danger that surrounds the quaint little town. Rosewood had gone from a picturesque place she called home to a town out of a horror film and even looking at her favorite places now, the Grille, The Brew, the school, reminds her of all the terror she'd endured, instead.

The hill overlooking all of Rosewood, just on the outskirts of town, had always been their spot and Spencer doesn't have to wait long for Toby to arrive. She exits her car just as he does his and he asks, frantically, "You're really running?"

"No," She smiles sadly. "I just want to keep all my options open."

"Why?" He asks in concern. "It's all over now. Did something happen at home?"

She nods and repeats Melissa's confessional nearly word for word, her anger returning with about half as much force as before. It is, of course, Toby's mere presence that keeps it at bay, because he doesn't even have to say anything to be of comfort to her. When she's finished, all Toby can say is, "Wow."

"Yeah," She heaves a sigh. "I don't want to go home. Can we just… stay here?"

He nods. "Sure."

It seems as though he's come prepared for this option. He opens the latch, spreads an armful of blankets along the bed of the truck and then crawls on top of them, making himself comfortable before extending a hand towards her, inviting her to join. She does so, snuggling into his side and slinging an arm reflexively across his stomach, wondering in the time he'd owned this truck how they'd never done this before. It's late spring and the crickets are already warming up, rehearsing their summertime opera into the night air, as luminescent stars scatter across the inky post-midnight sky above them. It is, in a word, peaceful, and after years of mental and physical anguish, it's all either of them could ever ask for.

"Let me know if you're cold," Toby tells her. "I have two other blankets inside."

She smiles and notes, "You definitely came prepared."

"I know you pretty well," He teases. "You said you wanted to run and I didn't really think you were going to, but it doesn't hurt to be ready."

"Especially these days," Spencer comments. "Right?"

"No, because 'these days' are over," Toby dissents. "It's going to take some getting used to, but I think it's going to be great. You don't have to be afraid to answer your phone anymore. I don't have to worry that someone's going to hurt you each time you leave your house. And, hopefully, you won't be dislocating any other joints or cracking any other ribs."

"Oh yeah," Spencer suddenly remembers, as though all the drama with her sister and Wren's posse had completely overshadowed her injuries. "I fell off a cliff."

He nods. "Yeah, you did."

She laughs, then, and Toby glances back at her, bewildered and wondering what could possibly be so funny. "I fell off a _cliff_! Oh my god. How many incoming college freshmen can say that? There's a great entrance essay topic. I mean, it's almost funny, isn't it?"

Toby shakes his head. "No, not really."

Her smile fades; she's still limping, it feels like there's glass embedded in her chest, and she still gets dizzy if she stands up too fast. "No. I guess it's not."

Silence befalls them and after a beat, Spencer adds, "There is some good that came out of all of this, though."

His visage is questioning. "There is?"

"Yeah," She confirms. "You finally got the truth about your mom."

"Yeah I did," He darkens. "In _graphic_ detail."

Spencer chews her bottom lip; no doubt he's talking about the candid reference Meredith made earlier that evening. "I was hoping you hadn't heard that."

"I did," Toby frowns. "I wish I could forget it."

"Tonight isn't what I'm talking about, though," Spencer switches the subject. "I mean you now know it wasn't planned. It was an accident and… she didn't leave you on purpose."

"That's true," Toby agrees. "She was all I had, you know? And when she died, I was… devastated, obviously, but I was also angry. _So_ angry because I thought she left. I thought she _wanted_ out. I thought that for the longest time and wherever she is now… She probably thinks I'm _horrible_ because my father had given up on her but I never had… Until I did."

"She couldn't think that," Spencer disagrees. "She _wouldn't_. You're her son and you obviously meant the _world_ to her. Wherever she is now, I'm sure she's just glad you finally know the truth."

"Looks like we both got the truth out of this deal," He says. "I found out what really happened to my mom and you learned who your sister really is."

"Yeah," Spencer frowns. "I think I liked her better before."

"When she was still lying to you?"

She shrugs. "The truth hurts more."

Instinctively, he pulls her a little closer and kisses her forehead. The only sound, now, is the rustling of the leaves above them as a night breeze threads through the air, and just when Toby thinks she's fallen asleep, Spencer says, "I want to leave."

"You want to go home?" He wonders and she smirks a bit.

"No. Leave _Rosewood_," She clarifies. "I want to pack everything I have, get in the car and just drive. Never look back. I don't even care where I end up. I just want to go. And I don't want to come back."

"Oh," Toby replies and for some reason, his heart gives an unwanted pang of anxiety. "Well I… I think your parents would miss you."

"Cell phone," is all she murmurs in response.

"Okay, your friends, then."

"They're just as emotionally damaged as me. I think they'll be leaving, too."

"Alright," Toby sighs. "_I'd_ miss you. Terribly. Ridiculously. I'd go out of my mind."

She lifts her head a bit to look him in the eye. "How do you think I feel when you go out of town?"

"Not fair," He frowns. "Ninety-nine percent of the time it's for work."

"And anyway," She goes on, ignoring his comment. "I just assumed you'd come with me."

"Oh," He repeats, his heart relaxing just a bit. "I guess we've never really talked about it before."

"You told me you're not leaving Rosewood unless it's with me," She quotes him expertly. "Did you think I felt differently?"

"I never thought about it, honestly," Toby tells her. "Rosewood's your home. I just expected you wouldn't want to leave."

"It's yours, too," She points out. "But it hasn't really felt like it in a while, at least not to me."

He thinks of the death threats he'd received, of shaving cream and spray painted accusations, and agrees. "Yeah, me either."

"I guess," She sighs. "I guess it's almost over and I just have to get through these last few weeks. College will hopefully be a fresh start."

The hairline fractures across his heart deepen just a little further at her confession. College is supposed to be a time of self-knowledge, renewal and exploration. It's a time for deeper education and to prepare oneself for the outside world. College is something students covet, cherish and look forward to and Spencer is looking forward to it, after all. But she's anticipating it for all the wrong reasons. She doesn't see it as a time for education, for fun, for self-exploration. She sees it as an escape; she sees it as a way out. And as much as Toby wants her to have the same experience as everyone else, he knows she won't. She'd lost a piece of herself the moment she got that very first message from –A; a piece she would never be able to reclaim.

There isn't much for him to say, so he sticks with, "I'm sorry, Spencer. I'm sorry this ever happened to you."

She shakes her head. "I'm not."

Toby cocks an eyebrow. "You aren't?"

"No," Spencer again disagrees. "Could I have done without the experience? Yes. Would I have rather had a normal junior and senior year, like my classmates? Absolutely. But there is one very, very good reason why I'm glad all of this happened to me. Do you know what it is?"

"It taught you a valuable lesson on cyber-bullying?" Toby teases and she shoots him a pointed look.

"_No_," Spencer says. "Because if all of this madness hadn't happened, you and I would not be together. And I would rather live through all of that hell all over again before I imagined my life without you."

"Oh, well when you put it like _that_," Toby grins, craning his neck to press a kiss upon her lips. "I'm glad it happened, too, then. Because a life without Spencer Hastings is not one I'd like to live."

She yawns and asks, "Even No-Caffeine Spencer?"

"Yes, even her."

"Even Low-Blood-Sugar Spencer?" She then probes.

Toby pretends to consider this. "Oh, I don't know. That's kind of a deal breaker."

Spencer huffs, indignant, and attempts to swat at him, but he's quicker than she is and catches her wrist. He pulls her closer, instead, and kisses her again, and when they're through, he expresses sincerely, "I love every intelligent, neurotic, over-caffeinated part of you, Spencer. You must know that by now."

"I do," She replies warmly. "And you're lucky I love you, too. Otherwise, I would comment on how you just complimented and insulted me in the same sentence."

He chuckles and pulls the blanket much more firmly around them, kissing any part of her he can reach as she settles against him. It's so late they can see the beginning of the sunrise on the horizon now; perhaps that means it isn't late, but early. Neither of them minds. Simple things like calculus exams and filling concrete foundations can't touch them when in they're in the presence of each other. They could be worried about how they'd function on little to no sleep the next day, or really later on today, but they've already done too much worrying in the short span of their lives. It doesn't suit them; they're too young to be so careful, after all.

Marion Cavanaugh had once told her son, long before her diagnosis, that everything happens for a reason; that the cycle of pain doesn't last too long before it's broken up by some good. Toby wishes his mother had practiced what she'd preached; if she'd only lived by her own words, perhaps she would still be alive today. But either way, it's something he'd kept in mind in his darkest days; every grey cloud has a silver lining. There had been days when he hadn't believed it to be true; there had been days when he was sure it wasn't. His innocence had been robbed of him, he'd been lost and alone and he'd cried in the alleyway, begging for things to change, praying for things to be different. Ask and you shall receive; he knows it was all up to chance, he knows it could have been anyone, but it wasn't. It was her. And to this day, Toby privately believes that his mother had sent Spencer to him in a final act of contrition. Marion hadn't had anyone to pull her out of the darkness, and so she sent her son a beacon of light.

As he glances at her, now, Toby realizes that's exactly what she is.


	20. Twenty

**Hello all! Well we've made it to the final chapter and it's totally bittersweet. I mean I know all the drama's over now so it's probably like a breath of fresh air and a cool sip of water, but I took pleasure in reading your reactions to all the crazy twists I threw your way, so I'll miss that the most. I want to thank each and every one of you for reading and reviewing and favoriting and following. Your support really does mean everything to me. I know everyone says that but trust me, I really do mean it. You guys are the best readers/reviewers a girl could ever ask for.**

**Should we pause a moment to talk about last night's episode? It was... kind of boring? I feel bad for saying that, but it was. They're going out of their way to make Peter look guilty, which means he probably isn't. Aria made everything about her again, which is irritating. Alison was annoying as fuck, surprise surprise. Hanna made me sad- I don't want her to shoplift and regress. :( Paige was awesome. She's been given some great one-liners lately. Um... Was anyone else there? I don't know. I'll miss talking through these episodes with you guys haha. Feel free to drop me some PMs if you want to talk or message me on Tumblr (dreamsarefantasmic dot tumblr dot com). I'll probably need it, especially with next week being the 100th and all.**

**Okay, so here we go. Get ready, get set and I hope you like this chapter. I doubt this will be the last you'll see from me, story-wise, so keep an eye out for me? Unless you're sick of me, which is entirely possible, since I don't know when to shut the fuck up. In which case, I'm sorry, I don't take it personally, and it's okay. It's been a fun ride. See you guys soon!**

* * *

Twenty

There are two hundred graduates processing onto the football field this afternoon, the boys in cobalt blue caps and gowns and the girls in white. "Pomp and Circumstance" is filtering through the outdoor speakers and the Rosewood High faculty and staff, dressed in ridiculous regalia, are frantically milling about, trying to arrange everyone into alphabetical order. Parents are already crying and relatives are taking their seats in the bleachers overlooking the sea of graduates, their programs makeshift fans because this afternoon in late June is burning as hot as the sun. The dozens of white folding chairs designated for the graduates are reflecting the white-hot rays of sunlight and would likely bake them all alive. Caps and gowns aren't breathable and do nothing to stop the heat from frying their insides; if anything, they only add more fuel to the fire. But somehow, it doesn't quite register, because there is far too much on everyone's minds to be concerned with the heat. _Accept the diploma with your left hand, shake hands with your right, for the love of God, don't trip._

Spencer Hastings is a bundle of nerves. They're about in the middle of the alphabet, now; she can tell because Hanna and Aria have just taken their seats. She doesn't get to process in with the rest of her classmates. All speechmakers process in last, following the principal, the vice principal and the board of education. She's class president, so she knew from day one she'd be making a speech, but somehow, three weeks prior they'd quieted the entire school and announced valedictorian and salutatorian. Spencer hadn't paid attention, sure it was just another reason for her parents to be disappointed in her, and only later in the day, when Andrew had called her his "partner in crime" had she learned her status. Apparently, she could have her life threatened innumerous times, she could suffer anguish after anguish, injury after injury, she could track down a killer, and still end up at the top of her class. Her friends had called her inspiring. Spencer had thought it was a trick; -A's final set up for her failure.

When they reach the stage, they're seated and everyone instantly quiets as the principal takes to the podium. He begins speaking as Spencer searches the crowd of people for all her familiar faces, her hands jittering impatiently on her lap. Andrew notes this and says, "Whoa there, Hastings. Relax. I'm fresh out of Valium or else I'd offer you some. Then again, things didn't bode well last time you used, huh?"

Spencer frowns, her tassel bouncing in her eyes as she shoots him a glance. "Is that supposed to be a joke?"

"Yes," Andrew's smile wanes a bit. "Come on, chill out. What are you so afraid of, anyway? You've been dreaming of making this speech since you learned to talk."

"Yeah, well, that was before everything else happened," Spencer tells him. "I had to edit out quite a few Gandhi quotes to fit all the apologies and explanations in."

He smirks. "I'm glad my speech is before yours. You're going to be a tough act to follow."

She smiles too, but wonders, "Again, I can't tell if you're joking or not."

"I'm not," Andrew says sincerely. "You're going to be great. You know it; I know it. Half the audience out there knows it."

She cocks an eyebrow. "And the other half?"

"Well, they'll be pleasantly surprised, won't they?" Andrew grins and then adds, "Just don't quote Dr. Seuss. That's my strategy."

Spencer chuckles a bit. "Trust me, my speech is a bit beyond _Oh, the Places You'll Go!_"

When the principal finishes his rambling, he introduces Andrew, who makes a heartwarming and humorous speech that leaves the audience thoroughly engaged. Everyone, that is, except Spencer, who listens to the beginning, gets lost somewhere in the middle, and doesn't make it to the end. She's back to wringing her hands nervously, to focusing on everything but the speech she'd spent a week memorizing; the shoes she'd borrowed from Hanna that are _killing_ her toes, the gown's itchy tag against her neck, the cap that's too tight around scalp ("It's all those brains," Toby had teased her when she'd modeled the cap and gown for him earlier in the week. "They've expanded your skull- you can't wear the normal size!"). She grins at the memory, now, and tries to find him in the crowd, but the sun's too bright and all the faces in the bleachers look the same.

It isn't long before it's her turn and she sees her name on the principal's lips before she actually hears it and she's up and walking towards the podium before she's ready. Andrew shoots her an encouraging grin, mouths "good luck," and reclaims his seat upon the stage. The moment her fingers curl around the cool mahogany podium, Spencer feels at home. It's like debate club all over again, only easier, because she doesn't have to make a case, she doesn't have to convince everyone to agree with her. For once, all eyes are on her to say something profound, meaningful, and long-lasting and she doesn't know if anything she says will do the trick, but she's been given the chance so she's certainly going to try. She clears her throat, draws in a deep breath, and the words flow from her mouth as fluidly as she's always dreamed they would.

"Good afternoon friends and family. My name is Spencer Hastings and, as previously mentioned, I am the valedictorian for Rosewood High School's class of 2012," She begins smoothly. "Coincidentally, I am also your class president, so I am also the one responsible for spirit week, homecoming, the senior carnival and prom. Hopefully, you all had a better time at prom than I did."

Relief floods her veins the moment she hears laughter, because she knows that everyone who'd attended prom knows how she'd left it. Spencer continues, "It could easily be anyone up here. In my time at Rosewood High, I've encountered so many amazing, hard-working people who would likely give anything to be standing right where I am right now. I'm sure your speeches would be inspiring and full of hope and would send us on our way with the desire to make things better in a world where so much is wrong. I only hope that my speech can do the job justice. I've got impossible shoes to fill."

"I could go on and on about how graduation isn't the end, it's the beginning," Spencer says. "How it's not a goodbye, it's a see-you-later. I could get nostalgic on you and talk about how we all met each other on that first day of kindergarten, when we couldn't tie our shoes and didn't know basic addition, but we were so thrilled to be there, so thrilled to learn. I could get sappy and talk about how much we'll miss each other; I could hit you with the facts and talk about how even though we say we'll keep in touch, we probably won't. I could quote Gandhi until I'm blue in the face, but I'm not going to do that. I'm not going to do any of the things I've mentioned and I don't think you want me to. You've heard it all before and I think, just maybe, you might be expecting me to say something else."

The crowd, graduates and family alike, is hanging on her every word. "A little while ago, a friend of mine went missing. You all know who she is and you've all had your own experiences with her, whether they're positive or negative. When she disappeared, we all thought it was over, but that's when all of the real trouble started. She was never really dead; she'd faked the whole thing in an elaborate plan to escape someone she'd wronged. She was used to getting her way, used to having the upper hand, but she'd crossed the wrong person and she'd paid the price for it. My friends and I lied for her, we lied to everyone, and we became the next in line. We were the ones with targets on our foreheads and to say we suffered for her would be an understatement."

"Rumors spread like wildfire through high school, so I'm sure you've all heard about the kinds of things that happened to us, to _me_," Spencer goes on. "I'm not going to stand here and make excuses or lie to you or cover it up. I was institutionalized, I did overcome an addiction through the help of rehabilitation, and I did find myself at the bottom of a cliff after a physical attack from our tormentor. I was pushed and prodded and even maimed a few times in this person's effort to get to our friend. In fact, for the amount of times I escaped death in the past two years, I definitely shouldn't be here, standing before you, making this speech. I made it through only out of luck, out of chance, and because I had an amazing support group who endured it all with me."

"You may be wondering now- why is she saying all of this?" Spencer says. "It isn't for the reason you may think. I'm not searching for sympathy or pity or scorn. I don't want you to take sides or judge our situation or claim you'd known all along. I'm simply telling you this because I want you to know the truth. It's not something I'm used to; after all, I've just spent the last two years lying to everyone I know. But today, as I've stated, is a new beginning, and I'd like to start mine here. If everyone knows the truth of what we went through, maybe it can give you all a greater understanding of why we did the things we did. Knowledge is power, after all; if everyone knows the truth, we can stop this from ever happening again."

"Honesty certainly is the best policy and if there's anything I've learned these past few years, it's that," Spencer states. "Today is the beginning of the rest of our lives but if you don't start on steady ground, you'll never get where you want in life. If you don't like something, say something. If you're unhappy, you have the power to change it. Never internalize someone else's pain or you'll always be the one to suffer. My friend took advantage of those less confident than her and look where it got her. Use this as a perfect example to never judge someone solely on their actions; you never know what's going on inside their head. If you're honest with yourself and others, I believe you can live a happy life."

"Walk across this stage today and then go out into the world and become something incredible. You all have the potential," Spencer concludes. "And because you can't make a speech without quoting Gandhi, I'd like to leave you with his infamous words- _Be the change you wish to see in the world_. It's ugly right now, but if everyone pitches in, if everyone stops all the bigotry and the hatred and the crime, then we can certainly make it shiny and new again. Accomplish big things and dream even bigger, simply because you can. Don't take it for granted; we're here. We did it; we made it. Congratulations, class of 2012. I wish you all the best of luck in the future and I sincerely thank you for allowing me to make this speech."

The crowd erupts in thunderous applause and whistling and catcalls accompany her response. She grins and reclaims her seat, watching as her friends cheer endlessly from their sections. A few people even give her a standing ovation and it's then that she finally spots Toby, because he's the one who'd started it. When all the madness dies down, the principal begins to line students up and call them, one by one, to cross the stage. It's over before she can blink; when they're seated again, he instructs them to move their tassels to the other side of their mortarboards, pronouncing them graduates of Rosewood High School. Caps are tossed high in the air, a stray beach ball goes flying, and it's really over, now. She's a high school graduate and though it had been inevitable, there had still been a time when Spencer had not been sure she'd see this day come to fruition.

It's absolute madness when the field dismisses its graduates and their family and friends. The wind is whipping Spencer's tassel into her eyes and is threatening to stake claim upon her honors society cord and her valedictorian medal. She runs into Hanna and Aria, somehow, who each give her one-armed hugs before bounding off in search for their families, promising pictures as soon as they are all reunited later on. Emily waves in her direction, but somehow she'd already found her parents and Spencer still hasn't located hers. Instead, she spots Melissa, arms crossed over her maxi dress, waiting impatiently for her sister to find her. Spencer starts in that direction, hoping Melissa will lead her to their parents, but then her name is called over the crowd and in the opposite direction, she finds Toby. Spencer glances between the two of them and takes in the two opposing expressions on their faces. On her sister's, a look of irritation and intolerance adorns her face and Spencer has to ask herself, is that really how she wants to be welcomed after accomplishing a feat she hadn't been sure she'd reach? Her boyfriend's grinning at her and his eyes are soft and warm and it doesn't take a genius to make this decision.

Approaching Toby instead, Spencer flings herself into his arms and he stumbles backwards a bit from the force. "Congratulations, Spence! You did it; I'm so proud of you."

"Thank you," She murmurs. "And thank you for coming. I'm so glad you're here."

"Are you kidding? I wouldn't have missed it," Toby tells her. "That speech? It was amazing."

"Was it?" Spencer pulls back a bit, her cap askew atop her head. "God, I was _so_ nervous. The whole time I was up there, I was sure people were wondering why. I'm sure they wanted to know how I could possibly be valedictorian after never doing my schoolwork."

"They didn't think that. They were too busy in awe of you," Toby says, adjusting her cap so it lies straight. "And that's the overachiever in you, anyway. Even though you were trapping a killer and dodging literal bullets, you still had time to write your papers and solve calculus problems."

"Real life waits for no one," Spencer says. "Not even –A."

"Well, -A's long gone," Toby shrugs, looping an arm around her waist. "Let's go find your parents. They're taking you out for a celebratory dinner."

"They are?"

"Yep," He nods. "I sat with them the whole ceremony. They asked me to join."

"They did?"

"Yeah," He chuckles. "You seem surprised."

She shakes her head. "I really don't know who my parents are, anymore."

"Funny you should say that, because I think that's how they felt about you," Toby informs her. "And they're trying to make up for it."

Spencer scoffs. "Wow, two months before I leave for college? Great timing."

"Hey, better late than never," Toby says. "They're really going to regret missing out on eighteen years of knowing how great you are."

She grins. "How is it that you always know exactly what to say to make me feel better?"

"I just speak the truth," Toby shrugs. "But anyway, this day is not about me. It's about you. Spencer Hastings, you just graduated high school at the top of your class. What are you going to do next?"

"Apparently, I'm going to dinner with my parents," Spencer fills in. "But more importantly, with my wonderful boyfriend who I love more than anything in the world."

Toby shakes his head. "That's not how it goes. You're supposed to say you're going to Disneyland."

She giggles and pulls him in for a searing kiss. She doesn't need Disneyland; every place is the happiest place on Earth, as long as she's with him.

* * *

Wren and his posse are tried, convicted and sent to prison to no one's surprise. A memorial to all those lost under his terrifying rule is constructed in the park; a simple garden and a bench engraved with their names upon it. Rosewood slowly begins to heal, but it's an arduous process; all four of the girls still attract stares and whispers behind not-so-concealed hands wherever they go and Alison cannot travel anywhere without getting questioning glances and double-takes. Countdowns begin to creep at the corners of all their calendars; there are only so many days before the girls can leave Rosewood and start anew. It's still up in the air whether or not they're going to return.

They'd each served as witnesses at the trials and are each receiving mandatory therapy. Tortured, traumatized and changed forever- things are not "normal" and most likely never will be. But although they'd all balked at the idea of seeing Dr. Sullivan all over again, the moment they're seated upon the couch before her, everything comes pouring out. Sometimes they bring their parents, sometimes they bring their significant others. Sometimes the five girls see Dr. Sullivan together and other times, they go alone. It truly is amazing how much she is able to bring to the surface. There is more they're all hiding than they'd ever really known themselves and once it's out in the open, once it's dealt with healthily, they're one step closer to gaining closure.

It's late August, now, a muggy Thursday night. It had rained all day, heavy at times with thunder rumbling and lightning breaking up the clouds but never touching down. It's most likely because of the heat; this summer had been unbearable. But tonight is the night before Emily, the first to leave their little nest, moves to college, and thus, the girls are having a sleepover at Spencer's. They'd spent the earlier half of the evening watching the sunset from her pool, dodging mosquitoes by having breath-holding contests and repeatedly splashing Hanna who'd claimed she did not want to be splashed. When the air grew a bit cooler, they'd built a fire in her pit and roasted marshmallows, burned a few, and made s'mores. Aria only likes them golden brown, but Spencer had explained that if you completely burned them to a crisp, when you peeled away the charred coating, all that was left was the gooey, warm center.

Now, they're lying in pajamas on the floor of Spencer's barn, their hair damp against their backs and plastic tumblers of frozen mixed drinks in their hands. Hanna says, "I hope you enjoy all the hair product I got in your pool. You'll be swimming in more _TRESemmé_ than chlorine."

"Great," Spencer chuckles. "I'll have you to thank when my dad complains about the pH being off."

"It's your fault," Hanna points out. "How many times did I tell you I didn't want to get wet?"

"Only you would come to a pool party _not_ wanting to get wet," Emily joins in. "What did you expect?"

"To stick my feet in," Hanna shrugs. "Maybe lounge on a pool float."

Aria shakes her head. "Where's the fun in that?"

"Whatever," Hanna rolls her eyes. "So what are we watching tonight? _Nightmare on Elm Street_? _Friday the 13__th_? Personally, I'm partial to the _Scream_ series."

"Hanna, I don't know about you," Emily frowns. "But I've had enough horror movies to last me a lifetime."

"Yeah, I'm with Em on this one," Spencer agrees. "We should probably stick to action or a rom-com."

"No, not romance," The blonde disagrees. "I'd miss Caleb even more than I already do."

Aria asks, "Doesn't he get back tonight?"

"At three a.m.," Hanna confirms. "It's crazy."

"Why so early?"

"He's been in California for two weeks," Hanna explains. "He wanted to get back as soon as he could."

Spencer adds, "Before you both leave again for school next week?"

Hanna shoots her a look. "_Not_ helping."

"We could play a game instead?" Emily suggests. "_Uno_ or _Monopoly_, maybe?"

"Both games take at least a year to play," Hanna shoots her down.

"Or," Aria grins when she produces her yearbook from her bag. "We could look through this."

"I've looked through that a dozen times," Spencer tells her, but inches closer anyway.

"Yeah, but the four of us haven't, not all together," Aria says. "Come on, it'll be fun."

The inside cover and the first two empty pages are littered with messages from friends and classmates, but once they get past that, they've found the senior portraits, listed alphabetically, one by one. Aria comments, "Your senior picture is gorgeous, Spence."

"Thank you," She says. "You look great in yours, too."

"Of course Hanna looks like she's in the middle of a photo shoot," Emily points out and Hanna scoffs.

"This is our _senior yearbook_," Hanna claims. "I had to look good."

"Look, it's Cara Olsen," Aria points to a glossy photo towards the end. "Can we talk about how she didn't graduate because she got pregnant in December?"

"No she didn't!" Spencer exclaims. "Oh my god, I knew it. Is she keeping the baby?"

"Who knows?" Aria shrugs. "I can't believe they let her keep her picture in here."

"We were lab partners in earth science freshman year," Emily comments. "She was the quietest girl I'd ever met. I never would've expected it from her."

"How about David Rowland, though?" Spencer asks then. "Do you guys remember we had that lockdown right before homecoming weekend and it turned out to be a drug bust? Turns out David was running a little marijuana business right from his locker."

"Stop! I remember that!" Hanna exclaims. "He cornered Caleb one day because he thought Caleb was moving in on his turf! I can't imagine how he thought selling computer knowledge was the same as getting people high."

"Oh look, senior superlatives," Emily says. "Cutest Couple already broke up."

"That's the curse," Spencer points out. "Best Eyes went to someone who wears colored lenses."

"Best Hair went to someone with extensions!" Hanna shrieks.

"That's sad," Aria laughs. "But our very own Spencer Hastings was voted Most Involved, no surprise there."

"Guilty," Spencer grins. "And Hanna was voted Best Dressed. Again, no surprise."

"Guilty," Hanna mimics and the girls laugh. "With everything that was going on, I'm surprised the school even knew who we were."

"Hanna," Emily explains. "People knew who we were _because_ of what was going on."

She smirks. "I guess that's true."

They flip through the rest of the yearbook, reminiscing on their years at high school and trying not to focus too much upon the fact that they're not in it nearly as much as they would be if they'd been present for school activities and not fighting for their lives. There is one photo, however, on the spread dedicated to prom of their table, the four of them and their dates dressed to the nines and smiling giddily. They stare in awe at that photo of themselves because they look uncharacteristically happy; they had no idea what was to come later on that evening. It's innocent and wonderful and they're all making a mental note to try and remember that as their prom and not what it had actually turned out to be.

Hanna says something that makes the girls laugh, then, and over the giggling, there's a sound at the barn door. All four are silent instantly, their heads snapping in that direction in inherent paranoia as Emily asks, "What was that?"

Spencer shakes her head. "I don't know."

"Is someone there?" Hanna wonders.

Aria hushes her, "_Ssh!_"

Just then, the barn door slides open and Alison peeks her head in. "Boo!"

All the girls collectively sigh in relief. Spencer says, "You're _not_ funny, Ali."

"A little late to the party, aren't you?" Emily asks. "Spencer invited us over hours ago."

"It wouldn't be called fashionably late if I arrived on time, would it?" Alison wonders. "Relax, I'm sure you haven't missed me."

Hanna sits up, wrapping her arms around her middle. "We thought you weren't coming."

"Our last powwow?" Alison says. "I wouldn't miss it."

"It's not the last one," Aria corrects her. "Just the last one until Thanksgiving, when we all come home."

Alison settles herself in between Emily and Spencer and sighs. "My girls- all grown up and leaving for college."

Spencer implores, "And what about you? What are you going to do?"

"Finish high school," She informs them. "But you couldn't pay me to go back there. I'll get my GED, I guess. I don't even really know how you go about doing that. Maybe I'll do something crazy and ask for help. Do you think Toby still has all the information?"

Spencer feels fire course through her veins as she answers, a bit unsteadily, "I-I don't know. Probably not."

"Relax, we're not about to become study buddies," Alison smirks. "I was just asking."

"And then what?" Aria asks to change the subject, sensing her friend's discomfort. "What'll you do after that?"

"Who knows?" Alison shrugs. "I mean, does anyone have a real plan for their lives? Because if you do, I'll be sincerely impressed."

None of the girls answer and Alison chuckles. "Yeah, I'm not surprised."

"Well…" Spencer trails off. "We were about to watch a movie. Any suggestions?"

"How about _Titanic_?" Alison offers. "I'm in the mood for something tragic."

They comply and pop the DVD into the player, the television the only light in the room as they snuggle beneath blankets and settle in to watch the classic film. In her effort to get comfortable, Alison lands hard on the yearbook and when she plucks it up from the ground, the look on her face is unreadable. Aria is quick to say, "Sorry. I meant to put that away. We were looking at it earlier and-"

"Can I?" Alison pleads and elaborates, "Look through it, I mean. Please?"

Aria's frozen in surprise, but she nods quickly. "Yeah. Yeah, go for it."

The first twenty or so minutes of the movie, with Old Rose and the rediscovered drawing and that stupid submarine, are insanely boring; everyone knows the movie only gets good when Leo and Kate take the screen. Instead, the girls focus upon Alison's reaction to the shiny yearbook in her hands. They watch as she turns the pages ever so gently and stops when she finds each one of the girls' senior portraits. Her fingers linger on their glossy faces, as if she's reading Braille, as if she's committing each of them to memory. She continues her search through the yearbook, likely imagining herself in their place, but not quite seeing it. But it's as if she's looking for something she can't find and it isn't until she's stopped at the prom photo that the girls realize what it is. She isn't looking for herself; she's looking for _them_.

"You're barely in this thing," Alison comments. "But this is a great picture of you guys."

"It was a fun night," Emily recalls softly. "I mean, until the end."

"Your dresses are amazing," Alison then says. "I didn't get a chance to tell you that night. Purple is your color, Spencer, don't let anyone tell you differently and Aria, you look like a beautiful, emerald goddess. Emily, you're more gorgeous than I've ever seen you and Hanna, you should've won prom queen. You can have the crown, if you want. I don't need it."

"No," Hanna shakes her head slowly. "It's okay. You keep it."

"This is the only picture of you guys?" Alison wonders, flipping back through the yearbook in case she'd missed something. "And I'm not talking about your portraits, your clubs or sports, or your superlatives. I mean, this is the only candid shot?"

"Yeah," Spencer confirms. "That's it."

"It's my fault," Alison expresses remorsefully. "If you hadn't been preoccupied with –A, with running for your lives and with trying to save mine, you would've been able to have a normal life. You could've gone to the homecoming game and senior carnival and actually had a _real_ prom instead of ending up in the hospital. You could've done so much; you could've _filled_ this yearbook, cover to cover. But instead… You guys did _so_ much for me. You risked your lives… I was awful and the last thing I deserved was your loyalty after what I did to you, all of you. Why?"

Emily wonders, "Why what?"

"Why were you there for me," Alison starts. "When all I ever did was cut you down?"

"Because," Aria states, unflinching. "That's what friends do."

"I'm sorry," Alison says after a beat. "I really am sorry."

The four girls share a look amongst one another. There's nothing to say that hasn't already been said. So, all Spencer can say is, "Okay," because even now, even after all this time and all they'd been through together, they still can't tell if Alison DiLaurentis is telling the truth.

* * *

A little after eight a.m., Spencer awakens with a crick in her neck from her awkward sleeping position on the old couch in the barn. "My Heart Will Go On" is playing on a loop, because they'd fallen asleep before the three-hour movie had finished and yet, the DVD is tiring itself out from replaying the opening screen over and over. It's easily the most annoying alarm she's ever heard and she reaches over a snoring Emily to switch it off. In the silence, Spencer glances across the room, still a bit disoriented, and notices Aria's curled up in the armchair at the end of the couch and Hanna is in the fetal position on the floor, a blanket pulled up to her hairline. Alison's gone and for a moment, it feels just like the last time. Spencer's half expecting to hear a scream, to go through hell and back all over again, before she finds a bright pink Post-It note stuck to the barn door. She'd had the courtesy to leave a note saying she'd left this time. She, too, must have sensed the déjà vu.

Once she's awake, it's pretty impossible for her to fall asleep again, so Spencer sits, shakes off the cramped muscles and pulls a sweatshirt over her tank top and shorts, finding herself slipping into her sneakers and quietly exiting the barn. She'll surprise the girls with coffee, she decides, and halfway to her kitchen, she starts in the opposite direction, towards her car instead. The Brew really gets it right, honestly, and, bonus, she may even bump into Toby on the way. She parks in the back lot, next to his truck as she always does, and just as she's about to head inside, she sees Toby descending the stairs, dressed for a run. He looks genuinely surprised to see her and pulls his ear-buds from his ears, stuffing the music player into his pocket.

"Hey," He greets, still a bit in shock. "Sleepover's over already?"

"Not really," She shrugs. "Everyone's still asleep. I came for reinforcements."

"What time did you get to bed?" He wonders.

"Four. No, five, I think," Spencer says. "I don't know. The sun started to come up."

Toby chuckles. "You're about to order the biggest coffee they have, aren't you?"

"Maybe," She bites her lip. "I'm surprised you're not at work yet."

"I've got the day off," He tells her. "Hence why I'm heading for a run. Care to join?"

"I haven't run in _so_ long," Spencer laments. "Not since the great hip injury of 2012. Plus, I'm cramped from sleeping on a couch and I'm dead tired."

"Excuses, excuses," Toby teases. "You're just afraid I'll kick your ass."

"Is that a challenge?" Spencer implores. "Because that sounds like a challenge to me."

He shrugs. "It's whatever you think it is."

He turns and takes off down the road and Spencer's torn, glancing behind her at the glowing red letters of The Brew. She can't pass up a challenge, but _caffeine_. As a last minute decision, she sprints after him, deciding instead to chase the high that always comes from being with him, the adrenaline coursing through her veins waking her up much better than coffee ever could. They jog in tandem, stride for stride, through the streets of Rosewood and it is, in a sense, the most free she's felt in weeks, months even. She'd spent years running; running from her parents, running from danger, running from –A. But she isn't trying to escape, today. She's just _running_. There's no one behind her, there's no one in front of her; there's no one chasing her, there's no one anticipating her. It's freeing, it's _fun_, and she hasn't done anything for fun in a very, very long time.

They stop at the mouth of the park, Toby's breath ragged as he says, "Okay, did they insert a bionic plate in your hip when they fixed you? Because I'm pretty sure you were doing a hundred miles an hour and you didn't stop to breathe."

She laughs, out of breath too, and tells him, "I'm sorry you can't beat me, but I warned you."

"You are unbelievable," Toby emits. "What happened to being cramped from the couch? Dead tired?"

She shrugs. "You challenged me. I always rise to a challenge."

He chuckles and collapses onto a park bench, spent. "You think the girls will miss you if you stay a little longer?"

"I don't think they're missing _anyone_," Spencer tells him, taking a seat beside him as her breathing evens out. "They were passed out when I left. I'm sure they'll still be that way when I get back."

"And who's leaving today?"

"Emily," Spencer then frowns, growing a bit more solemn. "I can't believe the day's already here. I can't believe we're leaving already."

"Yeah," Toby agrees. "The summer went by fast."

She's in accord in silence. Then, she asks, "We're going to be okay, right? I mean, I leave on Monday and as much I'm looking forward to it…"

"Of course we're going to be okay," Toby tells her sincerely, slinging an arm around her shoulders to bring her body closer to his. "This is nothing we can't handle. And who knows? You might end up finding some nerdy collegiate guy who understands you when you talk quantum physics and takes you out on more than one date and can beat you in things other than Scrabble."

She can sense insecurity lingering beneath the surface, even though she's sure he'd meant for it to make her laugh. She doesn't.

"Toby, you claim to know me," Spencer deadpans. "Does any of that sound like something that I want?"

"Well it might be," He shrugs. "In a different setting. And I'm not going to hold you back from using this time to explore all your options."

"I don't have any options; I've already made my choice," Spencer shakes her head clear of his fears. "I choose you, every single time. So I promise you, it's not something you even have to worry about. I love _you_. I want to be with _you_. Not anyone else."

He grins. "Well that's what I want, too; to be with you. So I think we're going to be fine. No, I know we are. I'm not even going to miss you."

Her expression fades a little. "What?"

"Well, I'm just saying," Toby clarifies. "It'll be pretty hard to miss you when I'll be there too."

She continues to stare. "Seriously, _w__hat?_"

"You want to leave Rosewood? Well, so do I," He says. "You're moving to the city? Well, so am I."

Her eyes widen. "Are you kidding?"

"I'm not," He grins. "I was going to surprise you, but I can't keep it a secret anymore. I got a job at an architecture firm. It's just an internship for now, but it's paid and it could turn into something bigger down the road."

"Oh my god," She exclaims. "That's awesome! Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"It wouldn't have been a surprise, then," He reasons. "Honestly, I started looking after you got accepted and after we talked about... Moving on. I hope you're not mad. I don't want it to seem like I'm following you or that you're taking your high school boyfriend with you to college but-"

Spencer cuts off the rest of his reply with a kiss, silencing any doubt he may have previously been feeling. The kiss is long and purposeful and when she pulls back, she locks his eyes with hers. "It doesn't seem like that at all. I am literally so excited; you have no idea."

He smiles slowly. "Good. That's what I was hoping you'd say."

"You're more than just my high school boyfriend, anyway," Spencer insists. "If we're going to leave Rosewood, I want to do it together or not at all."

Toby nods. "That's a decision I can definitely get behind. Hence why I took the job."

A moment passes in appreciative silence. She toys with the hem of his t-shirt before probing, "Toby?"

"Yeah?"

"I don't say it nearly enough, but I really want you to know," Spencer begins. "I really appreciate everything you've done for me. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me and… you're the reason I got through everything I did with at least a semblance of my sanity. I just want to thank you and I want to be sure you know how much all of this means to me. I want you to know how grateful I am for this, for _you_."

"Spencer, you don't have to say it," Toby shakes his head. "It's immensely clear. It's in everything you do and everything you say. And I should be the one thanking you. If it wasn't for you, I don't know where I'd be now. In more trouble than I could ever hope to escape, probably. You gave me a second chance; you gave me more than I could have ever hoped for. And I'm thankful for that everyday. I'm thankful for _you_."

Her hands curve around his face, framing her beautiful portrait in her hands. "I love you so much."

"I love you, too," He declares. "More than words can say."

It's rare that kindred spirits are united so early on in life, but the moment Spencer Hastings felt that initial spark between herself and Toby Cavanaugh, she knew she was in it for eternity. He understands her, he believes in her, he completes her and he always has, right from the beginning. Not many people would stick through what Toby had; not many people would take all the suffering, the lying and the heartache. But he'd made it clear he was not walking away, he was not abandoning her, and she'd always wondered how someone who'd been abandoned his whole life could still stand to be someone else's supporting block. He loves her with his entire giant heart, loves her against all reason and doubt, and so fiercely and intensely, it is only matched by how much she loves him back. Toby's witnessed things Spencer's not proud of; he's seen her fall and crash and break into a million scattering pieces right before his very eyes. And each time she'd expected it to be the end, there he was, patiently putting her back together again and filling all her fractures with his unadulterated love.

It will never be all ups; she knows they'll have plenty of downs, too. She'll fall again; Spencer's sure of it. But Toby will be there to catch her as he always is because even now, even after all this time, he is still her safe place to land.


End file.
